


to know the songs the fae folk sing

by LocketShoru



Category: Saint Seiya, 聖闘士星矢: 冥王神話 | Saint Seiya: The Lost Canvas
Genre: Adventure, Faery!Minos, Goblin!Pandora, M/M, Modern AU, Transgender!Albafica, and no transphobia, as in he's a trans man, mild violence, you know spiderwick and terabithia n moonacre? yeah it's that kind of fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22366072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LocketShoru/pseuds/LocketShoru
Summary: [AKA The Wrench Fic] Albafica is fifteen and just wanted to go be with friends at the biggest sleepover party at the year, and sure didn't want to be at the family cottage in rural Scotland for the weekend. Definitely doesn't want the resident faery king - who apparently exists - asking for help to take his kingdom back. But ah, the universe has never once listened to fifteen-year-olds, and it isn't starting anytime soon.
Relationships: Griffon Minos/Pisces Albafica
Comments: 8
Kudos: 10





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> A note on Albafica being trans. I am a trans man myself, and this is written as respectfully to everyone as possible. He's referred to with female pronouns until midway through the second chapter, because he wasn't exactly aware he was trans. Once the change happens, it does not change back. There is _zero_ transphobia in this story. He was a girl, and then he is not, and steps are taken to make him more comfortable when the issue arises. So I should hope there isn't much need to worry. I like having protagonists who are like me. Feels nice.  
> Anyway, this fic is very Bridge to Terabithia / Spiderwick Chronicles / Secret of Moonacre / The Last Mimzy styled. Set early 2000s or so? Whenever Pokemon Ruby and Sapphire came out. Yeah.

She wasn’t quite sure what was worse here: the fact that she was stuck shotgun in a car that had been driving for almost two hours straight without a stop, the fact that her gameboy was out of power and so was her MP3, or the fact that she was missing out on one of the biggest parties of the year because her father had decided it was a great idea to drive into rural Scotland for the weekend to go have some time ‘away from civilization’ or something equally terrible.

The road had turned to well-kept dirt somewhere in the last hour, becoming a winding pathway that had been worn into the ground centuries ago. True, it had been years since they’d last had the chance to spend a weekend out at the cottage, and it was really special to her dad, but that didn’t mean she had to like it herself.

Even worse was that she hadn’t had a chance to change out of her itchy school uniform first. She glanced up from where she’d been resting her cheek on the edge of the door. Her father’s eyes were straight on the road, but he glanced over for a moment, smiling down at her. He took one hand off the wheel to offer it to her, and she took it, trying her best to give a genuine smile back.

The cottage would hold a lot of memories, that she was sure, but did it really have to be this weekend? Seemed bad timing, since her dad had known about Shion’s party for ages. It wasn’t like she’d shut up about it for a month, and yet, she was still missing out on it. They’d left Thursday afternoon and the party was Saturday night. She would’ve considered sneaking out to drive back for it, but it was a three-hour drive and she didn’t have her license, so she was simply stuck.

He squeezed her hand and kept driving. She returned her gaze to the window, watching the endless trees. They were growing thicker by the minute, each trunk wider around the edge than the one before, the underbrush all brambles and bush. 

For a moment, she could see something in the woods, beyond the treeline: something quick, large, and with antlers. She sat up a little. It couldn’t have been a deer: deer didn’t walk on two legs, and it was way too thick around the torso. 

“See something, love?” her father asked. She glanced over.

“No, nothing,” she muttered, settling back into her seat. She was probably just seeing things. It happened, on occasion, and she was pretty sure everyone else had seen weird things in the woods too. They wouldn’t have legends if people didn’t occasionally see things in the woods that didn’t make any sense.

Ages later - honestly, it was probably forty-five minutes, but boredom stretches time out like nothing else - they pulled up into the driveway of the cottage. It was still in pretty good condition, and it didn’t look like it was collapsing, which was a bit of a relief. The last thing she wanted was to spend four days patching up the roof, like she’d watched her father do on more than one occasion.

He wouldn’t sell the place, either. It had been where he’d met her mother: which made sense, in its own weird way, though she wasn’t entirely sure how that would be, considering it was the only thing around for miles. Someone would have to hitchhike a long, long way before they got there. Still, she didn’t question it. She didn’t know much about her mother, so everything she did know had to be fact. Her dad wouldn’t lie to her like that.

“Here we are,” he said, almost sing-song, turning off the engine. She could see the sparkle in his eyes, like he had shed a few years and his very skin was remembering being youthful, once; and truth be told, she felt only slightly better about it.

“Here we are,” she agreed, and climbed out. Closing the door behind her, she took a moment to stretch, glad to finally work out the knots from sitting in a car for three hours. Her dad pulled their suitcases out of the back of the car, whistling as he pulled them along to the front door. She followed, sighing a little. It was a good place. Did it _really_ have to be this weekend? Couldn’t it have been any other weekend when it wasn’t the eve of a big party she’d been looking forward to?

Someone stepped behind her, footsteps rustling through the grass. She turned, breath quickening, kilt brushing the back of her knees, only to see nothing there. Strange. Her father unlocked the door and she turned back to follow him inside, sighing only a little.

The inside was mildly musty and rather chilly, but otherwise just as she remembered it: darkened oak and stone bricks, the floor decorated with rugs and the walls with faded pictures. Her father set their suitcases by the door, heading over to go get the fire started. He was smiling. She didn’t really have it in her to smile back.

“Do we have to go hunting for food this time, or are we good?” she asked. She’d spent a few summers that way, though she didn’t think the skills she’d learned would ever actually be useful.

“Nope, I brought food this time,” he said, his back turned to her. The fire sparked, having been set with fresh wood when they’d left the last time. He stood up, clapping his hands to her. She leaned against the wall, folding her arms. “Now! Why don’t we go put our stuff away, and see about all the dust?”

Great. Exactly what she wanted, cleaning all the dust out of the small cottage they hadn’t been to in a few years. “Sure, Dad,” she answered, forcing a bit of a smile. He probably knew it was fake. 

She grabbed her suitcase and swung around into the hallway, climbing up the stairs, passing the second floor - her father’s room - without much of a thought. The house itself didn’t take up much ground space, so it had three floors and not very much floor in any of them. At least she had a window, which had a nice view of the backyard. Though it wasn’t much other than an overgrown garden and a stream that ran right through. They hadn’t bothered with a fence, and the woods were beyond the stream.

She didn’t remember a time when she had ever been allowed out in the woods past the stream. Even all their hunting had been done on this side. It was a decent enough landmark, and her father had warned her never to go past it. He never said why, either, though she’d asked.

Her room was exactly the same, the window shut tight and the curtains over it, preventing any light from getting in. She stopped her suitcase at the stairwell, heading over and drawing the curtains open, cracking the window a bit. Maybe the sunlight would actually warm the place up. She tied the curtains back with their tassels, turning to survey the room that now actually had light in it.

Honestly, the bed was getting seriously too small to be comfortable. She’d left her favourite hairbrush here, years ago, but it wasn’t going to be of much use now. Everything was very dusty otherwise, and it didn’t look very inviting.

“Alba?” her father called, from downstairs. He appeared a moment later at the stairwell, his chin a few inches off the floor of the rest of the room, and he didn’t look too pleased. “It looks like I somehow managed to forget all of the cleaning supplies, and we don’t have any here. Can you keep the fire going until I get back with some? I’ll grab dinner too, promise.”

She stifled a sigh of annoyance. “Yeah, guess so,” she answered with a nod. The last bit of civilization she’d seen was an hour out. He smiled, looking apologetic, and disappeared back down the stairs. After a few moments, she heard the front door close.

She leaned up against the windowsill, huffing. He usually wanted to dust everything down together, and without any supplies there wasn’t going to be much dusting done. Anything she used would have to be handwashed, and she didn’t like doing laundry by hand any more than anyone else. 

“This sucks,” she announced to the room, though there was going to be nothing but her for miles once her father drove off. “There is not a single part of this that doesn’t suck. I think I’d take being eaten by a dragon over this.”

The room didn’t reply, but the window rattled with a sudden wind. She glanced at it. The window was open, but she’d felt no wind - just the rattle. She stared at it for a moment. A movement out beyond it caught her eye.

For a moment, she was sure she’d seen a silver horse just beyond the stream, but she focused on it, and there was nothing but trees. She pushed the window open, looking into the distance. Nothing there at all.

“Huh,” she muttered, and went to go put all her clothes and stuff away. At the very least, thankfully, the cottage had electricity. She went and plugged her gameboy into the socket, grabbing the spare batteries and stuffing them into her MP3, jamming the battery charger into the other socket and stuffing the old batteries into it. It lit up green and she pushed it aside, thoughts heavy.

A few moments later found her outside in the back garden, glaring at an overgrown plant. No doubt her father would want to do all the gardening together and beat back all the plants that had taken free reign of the yard. But first things first: grab the oil that was thankfully still sealed underneath the barbecue, and get the water-wheel working again. Usually the stream pushed it, but it seemed rather stuck. She rolled up the sleeves of both her blouse and cotton uniform sweater, and got to work.

She’d cleared out all the muck that the stream had pushed into the wheel when she heard the grass behind her rustle with footsteps. She turned, glowering. There was nothing there. Nothing at all, but…

In the mud was a trail of footprints, barely discernible, half her shoe size and definitely recent. Those hadn’t been there a moment ago.

She stood, slowly, raising the wrench above her shoulder. Stepping over, she scanned the footprints. If she followed them, where would they lead? What had made them? She knew of little people in the hills, but this was a forest, and the ground was pretty flat for miles around. And it wasn’t like the place actually did have anything in it - she doubted her father would keep the place, if it was dangerous. He knew everything about these woods, and no matter how lost she thought she was, he always knew the quickest way back.

The footprints lead to the stream, and she followed them, careful not to muss them with her own tracks beside them. She rested the wrench against her shoulder: it was a mixture of steel and iron, and that had to count for something. There probably wasn’t anything she couldn’t swing it at, except birds maybe.

The footsteps disappeared into the stream. She followed where they might have been, and sure enough, they reappeared on the other side, where she had never once been allowed to go, leading deeper into the woods.

Perhaps it was spite from having to miss out on the party. Perhaps it was the silver horse and the deer-thing from before, still bothering her. She debated for a total of three seconds, and stepped into the stream, following the tracks.

She made it to the other side and absolutely nothing had happened but the soles of her shoes getting wet. Nothing that said that it was a bad idea, nothing that said she was doing the correct thing. In the stories, there were always signs, so she doubted she was in one.

But the footprints continued. She followed them, dutifully, careful not to muss them. They were winding, leading around trees and in through a couple of places she had to duck under branches to follow. Bluebells had started to appear around the roots of trees, soft and violet and looking pretty while doing nothing else. They didn’t show her a path to follow, or anything, just grew normally in clumps around the trees.

The footsteps continued, and it got to the point she was sure she’d been walking for over half an hour, and if she turned back, she was pretty sure she wouldn’t see the cottage. She’d be worried if it wasn’t a bright and sunny early May afternoon, but it was, and everything said if she got lost she could just retrace her steps, or climb a tree to check where the cottage was. There’d be smoke from the fire, there always was.

She kept going. The wind whistled past her, rustling the leaves on the trees. For just a moment, it sounded like someone laughing. She looked up, following the footprints without actually looking at them, and promptly tripped over a tree root.

She fell directly forward, knee- and face-first into the mud. The ground was soft and she hadn’t skinned anything, but now she was covered in mud. She sat back up onto her knees, huffing, wiping mud out of her face with her sleeve.

There was laughter behind her. She spun around, on her feet in a moment, wrench raised primed to swing. There wasn’t anything but her tracks, the small footprints, and deeply unsettling, what had to be four more pairs of footprints. She bared her teeth, entirely out of a childhood habit she’d never quite been able to break.

“That’s not funny,” she snarled.

The laughter continued, and it seemed all around her now. She turned in a slow circle, wrench still raised. Sure enough, she was almost surrounded by footprints.

Something caught the hem of her kilt. She spun, swinging as she went. The wrench connected with something, heavy and hard, and whatever it was, it went flying. It hit a tree behind her, the bark splintering into the vague shape of some sort of small human roughly half her size. The mud shifted to accommodate it, but she couldn’t see it. That didn’t make it not real.

She stepped up to it, slow, raising the wrench again. “Make yourself visible or I _will_ swing this at you again,” she said, slow and steady, enunciating every syllable. She wasn’t very good at Scottish, but there were very few people she’d met that hadn’t spoken English. 

The laughter chorused again, all around her. “Let’s see how the little prince can run, shall we?” said a voice behind her. She turned, and just for a moment, she was sure she saw a horse black as night, its rider only a silhouette.

She could’ve said something stupid, but her gut told her otherwise. The ancient legends in her blood, every instinct screaming at her that this was wrong, and she was in a very bad place. Her heart started to pound in her throat. She spun back towards where she knew the cottage would eventually be, and bolted.

In a matter of minutes she was lost: fog had begun to roll in even though it hadn’t rained in days, and she jumped over a bush, snagging her kilt and ripping away a few inches of fabric. She barely noticed, running blindly forward, never quite coming to the realization that the forest around her was entirely unfamiliar. 

She was sure there was more than one horse behind her. The wind was silent but there was pounding of hoofbeats against the ground, following her, and it wasn’t quite in rhythm with her heart. She kept going. Soon she ended up on what seemed to be at least somewhat of a path, and she ran along it, grateful that she wasn’t fighting her way through bush. Why hadn’t she grabbed her machete before she’d wandered off? A wrench didn’t help her cut her way through this.

The path split into two paths ahead of her, identical save for what she was sure was a small, floating indigo light. “I don’t _fucking_ think so,” she hissed, catching the side of a treetrunk and swinging herself into the path without the light. Will o’ wisps were meant to guide you toward your fate. If that fate was ‘eaten by the gentry because I was too stupid to listen to my dad who knows these woods better than me’, she wasn’t taking it, thank-you-and-you’re-welcome.

She ran along the path, breath heaving in her chest and wrench secure in one hand. Ahead of her seemed to be the crumbling ruins of a church, mossy and overgrown but with a stable door. The gentry hated iron, and hated Catholicism just as much. She bolted into it, slamming the door open with her shoulder, swinging around and bolting it shut with the deadlock behind her.

The sound of hoofbeats was quite suddenly, gone, just her and her heaving chest and her racing heartbeat. She closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against what had just been decaying wood, and found it almost warm under her skin.

She stood up, spine stick-straight, opening her eyes to the door. It was marble, and very art-deco, and not at all rotting wood like it had been when she closed it. She backed up, slowly, terrified, raising the wrench again. 

“I don’t think I like you very much,” she told the door, backing away as slow as she could. Whatever this was, it wasn’t what it had been a moment ago, and things like that defied the laws of physics. Actually, that seemed like a good idea. “If I quote known laws and formulas of physics at you, will you stop? Because I really think I want you to stop. Newton’s law. Inertia. E equals M-C-squared. You are not made of marble.”

Someone sighed behind her. “The door is not sentient, little prince, and it isn’t going to change to whatever I’m sure you thought it was because you call it strange names.”

She spun on her heel, arms tensing on the wrench. She seemed to be standing in some sort of… hall. There was carpet below her and the floor was tiled, and the stained-glass windows were letting in rainbow-tinted sunlight. At the other end of the room, a good seventy feet away, was a raised dais, and on it, a throne. A few paces from the throne, toward her, was a boy with incredibly formal clothes, hair like spun silver, a golden crown, and what was… semi-transparent butterfly wings, almost matching the stained glass. He twitched a wing, his expression mildly perplexed.

Her heart rose back into her throat. “I don’t think I should have turned around,” she muttered, but the hall was the type to echo and her voice carried anyway. His wings rose on his back, and he looked mildly insulted now.

“I don’t think I very much like your tone, little prince,” he retorted. His voice was calm, and his expression was not. He stepped toward her, his stride slow enough for her to react, but fast enough he wasn’t dallying. “I thought we made it clear to the humans to stay out. Did you ignore the sign that said ‘here there be monsters’ or did the goblins off with it again? Please tell me you just ignored it like the silly little human lad that you seem to be. I don’t feel like going to war right now.”

She raised the wrench a little more, wrists steady, making sure he saw it. His frown deepened. “If those goblins of yours are half my height, invisible, and chased me here with at least one weirdo on horseback, then I suppose they did, because I didn’t see a single sign. _And_ they were messing with me.” She glowered at him, knowing it was stupid, not really caring. The last thing she needed was all this mess. She knew pretty well that nobody would believe her, now that she’d caught her breath enough to carry one thought to another.

He paused, stopping about fifteen paces from her. His eyes narrowed. “Goblins will do that, if you wander into their territory. I should throw you back out for-”

“I didn’t wander into their stupid territory!” she snapped, cutting him off. “I’ve been here lots over the years and I’ve never seen them before! That isn’t my fault!”

He raised an eyebrow, folding his arms. He stretched out his wings a little more, flaring them out, and suddenly his voice was a little deeper, and a hell of a lot more dangerous sounding. “No human has wandered into these woods for a very long time,” he said, drawing out the sentence, making sure she heard every word. “If you are here, which you are, it is because you have strayed where you should not have gone.”

“They crossed the stupid stream first!” She stepped back, mostly involuntarily. The weird butterfly boy had become the scary butterfly boy, and she wanted to argue, but something inside her told her she should really be starting to run again.

“The str-” He cut himself off, his eyes widening. His eyes were just a little bit bigger than human eyes were. Another weirdo thing she didn’t want to think about. “The goblins crossed the stream to the human side. Is that what you are telling me, little prince?”

She shut her mouth, debating for a moment. 

“Do not keep me waiting.” His glower was slightly more pronounced.

She took a breath, lowering the wrench to rest on her shoulder. “Me and my dad just got here, like, an hour ago. He had to go back to town to go get dusting supplies so I went out to go start beating the yard back into submission and I was fixing the waterwheel, and I heard laughter, and there were footprints in the mud half my size. So I followed them to the stream, and they were there on the other side too, so I went and followed them for a bit. I tripped, and _something_ tried to grab my kilt, so I hit it with the wrench and it hit a tree and then some freaky guy appeared and then he went invisible, and started laughing, and said he wanted to see how fast I could run or something stupid like that, and I know better than to dance that dance so I started running, and I made it here, and seriously this was a crumbling church why is it a hall that’s impossible there’s no way you can hide a _hall here why is there a hall here_.”

She stopped only long enough to take a deep breath, and he raised his hand to stop her. She fell silent. Anything else would probably be suicide.

“The goblins trespassed onto the human side of the stream. You followed them onto our side out of curiosity. Am I correct in my understanding?” he asked. Only the last part was stated as any sort of question.

She nodded. He unfolded his arms, pinching the bridge of his nose with a gloved hand. “Very well,” he said, when he finally looked back up at her. “When you open those doors, little prince, you will be back on your side of the stream. I will allow you to leave unscathed and unharmed, because you have brought me news of the goblins doing what they should not have been doing. You will take no more, and no less, than that. When I return, I do not want to see you here.”

“One thing, then.” She paused, waiting for his attention to return. He eyed her, his frown deepening.

“It is not wise to ask more of me, unless you’re prepared to pay for it,” he stated, more perplexed than warning.

“If I catch any more goblins on my side of the stream - as you call it - do I get to defend myself, or is that like, going to offend a whole bunch of people that are going to curdle the milk and curse my family? Because if they’re going to harass me, it seems fair I get to hit them with a wrench.”

He looked entirely nonplussed. “I… suppose so? Please make sure they’re actually goblins before you hit them with your…” - he waved a hand at the wrench - “weapon. If you start hitting my citizens with that unprovoked, there will have to be consequences, and though I’m sure you don’t understand what it is or how much I dislike it, there will be _paperwork_ involved, and I do not wish to be subjected to more paperwork than I need to.”

“Because paperwork is its own kind of hell,” she answered, tone as perplexed as he was. Did he seriously think she didn’t know what paperwork was?

“Exactly,” he said, nodding, his frown fading, obviously glad she’d understood his point. “There will be paperwork if you hit my civilians with your weapon unprovoked. I will be most displeased if I have to do any, little prince. But I suppose if it is provoked, it is only to be expected. The door is behind you.”

He flicked a hand and turned away from her, walking back towards the throne that was probably his. She recognized the dismissal, turned on her heel, and headed back towards the doors, which were now open, showing nothing but fog beyond them. She bit her lip and stepped through.

The fog cleared almost immediately, and she was standing just inside the house, the back door open behind her. On the opposite end of the room was the front door and the windows, and judging by the empty space, her father wasn’t back yet. The clock, ever ticking, said she’d been gone an hour and a half.

“Well, I don’t think I want to do that ever again,” she muttered. “Great thing to miss a party for.” She looked at her wrench, mostly clean except for some mud, debated for a second, and slipped it into her belt loop. Probably best to keep it on her for the rest of the weekend. She’d find some excuse to keep it on.


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albafica's survived one brush with goblins, but is there hope for getting out unscathed a second time?

Her father returned about twenty minutes later, and she had done an excellent job of beating back a good chunk of the front garden, choosing happily to avoid the back garden at all costs. She’d been mulling over the faery boy’s words, trying to understand it. Why he’d called her ‘little prince’ when she was quite clearly a girl, why the goblins crossing the stream were such a big deal, and how he’d managed to exist in the first place.

The only answer she could give herself was that it _had_ happened: the footprints still in the mud of the back garden proved it. She took it as a good sign, of sorts: she hadn’t been dreaming it, or fallen into the stream and hit her head.

Her father appeared from the back door, his eyebrows furrowed and his face in a deep-set frown, like he was thinking something complex over. He looked up when she walked in from the front door, carrying an armful of firewood. 

“Alba,” he said. She looked up toward him, setting it down in the holder near the fireplace. 

“Yeah?”

He paused, as if debating for a moment. “Can you come here?” He gestured her forward to the dining room table. She went, slowly, unsure why he was so hesitant. Unless he knew. If he did...

“Is something wrong?” she asked, heading over and taking a seat opposite him. The table was only ever set for two. Her mother hadn’t been to this cottage in a very long time, and that was back when she had been far too small to need her own seat. 

He sighed, reclining a little in his seat, and held his closed hand out to her. She reached back, cupping her hand underneath, letting him drop whatever it was into her hand. It seemed heavy, and smooth, and very chilly.

She retreated her hand, looking to see whatever it was. It was a necklace, a simple gray stone with a large hole in the middle, threaded by a silver chain. She looked up, questioning. “Er, thanks?”

A corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “It was your mother’s. They wanted you to have it when you were ready. I think you are, now. It’s a hag stone - just a normal rock with a natural hole in it. We found it in the stream when we were younger, and they wore it for years. It’s supposed to bring good luck, and if legend is true, you can see through illusions if you look through the hole in it.”

She nodded, slowly. On one hand, anything of her mother’s was precious and irreplaceable. On the other hand, he had to know what had happened when he was gone. There was no way he wouldn’t, not with a gift like that. She untangled the chain, unclasping it and reaching around her low, dress-code-adhering pigtails to clasp it again around her neck. “I’ll wear it always,” she promised. “Except the shower. I don’t think that’d be very good for it.”

He smiled, looking delighted that she’d accepted the gift. “Then I think we should see about dusting this place off, shall we?”

She gave him a small smile, and off they went.

They cleaned up the back garden last, after all the dusting and sweeping had been done and the front garden had been berated properly. She really didn’t want to clean up the back garden, but didn’t see any way out of it. So she helped, avoiding the stream as much as possible. The goblin footprints were still there.

“Did you get the waterwheel working while I was gone?” he asked, interrupting her from her thoughts.

“Yeah, I figured I’d let it run for a bit while I worked out front,” she answered, not really honestly but with no intent on telling him the actual truth. He probably wouldn’t believe her still, but either way, it wasn’t worth risking.

When his back was turned, she lifted the hag stone from its place around her neck and peered through it, vaguely wondering what she’d see across the stream. A few of the trees were alight with small pink flames. She squinted, and realized they were some sort of pixie, or Disney-style fairy, which seemed pretty accurate. She dropped the stone and continued working, a lump inching into her throat. That wasn’t… good, by any measure she knew. Except for the measure that said she should be delighted by magic. Magic didn’t delight, that was an American superstition in all the movies. Scottish superstition said magic got you killed, or something quite worse.

It took another hour or two of beating back the plants until the garden was clean enough to pass muster for the both of them. They ate dinner outside on the porch, relaxing in the oncoming sunset. He’d gotten her favourite fast food while in town, and while she did appreciate traditional food every now and then, sometimes it was comforting just to grab something greasy and devour it with nobody but her father watching, nobody to judge what she ate like. She was _hungry_ , and doubted any of her classmates could do so much in a day on so little food.

Her father clapped her on the shoulder. “There’s a good day’s work,” he said cheerfully. He’d tied back his Irish-red hair into a high ponytail, looking proud of the both of them even if there was mud on his nose.

“I suppose so,” she answered, stifling a yawn. He grinned. 

“How about you take first shower and head to bed?” he suggested, pulling her up from her seat into a tight hug. She relaxed in his embrace, looking up only when she saw a flicker of light across the stream.

“Sounds good,” she said, and he scooped up their plates, heading indoors. She reached for the hag stone, lifting it to her eye and closing the other.

It was the silver horse from before - it had to be! - standing just on the other side, eyeing her, the horn long and twisted protruding from its forehead. It turned away from her, and walked back into the forest.

“Huh,” she muttered, a sinking feeling that the world was about to get weirder making itself known in her stomach. “I guess all sorts of things just want to defy physics and evolution, then.”

She turned away and headed back inside, towards the small bathroom that had evidently been an afterthought, built onto the square house after it had been fully constructed. The shower water was thankfully warm due to the hydro system that was attached to the other houses in the woods, a good few miles away from them. The pressure wasn’t as heavy as she was used to, but it was good enough.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She was still missing the party - any other time, she’d be at home shaving her legs and scrubbing her hair through in preparation the night before, but no. She had to be out here, in rural Scotland, having already been chased down by strange goblins and doing the work of three gardeners in less time than it should have taken for a normal person.

It wasn’t like she could even complain about it. Her friends would want the truth, and there was no way she could give it. She turned off the water, dressed into her pajamas - an old flannel shirt of her father’s and soft cotton pants - and headed upstairs.

She grabbed her phone off the charging cable, checking if she even had any sort of reception all the way out here. She did, but it wasn’t great. Shion and Yuzuriha had both sent her texts; Shion had asked if she was coming to the party and Yuzuriha wanted to know if she’d left her good hoodie at Albafica’s place. She answered both with a ‘no’, figuring she would have noticed if there was an extra hoodie laying around.

‘ _Real boring out here. Wish I could make it to the party. :(_ ‘ she typed out, huffing to herself. The least she could do was play on her Gameboy for a bit, see if she couldn’t get much farther in Pokemon Sapphire. She certainly wasn’t going to do her homework here.

The hours seemed to drag, and she listened to her father shower and head up to check on her before he went to bed. He kissed her forehead and told her to sleep tight, offering her one last fatherly smile before he disappeared into the stairwell. The sun had since set, and she tried to play for another couple of hours, half-absorbed into the game and also bored out of her mind.

Long after he’d gone to bed and she still, strangely enough, didn’t feel tired, her window began to rattle. She looked up, closing the Gameboy without actually turning it off, eyeing the window.

It was rattling, and there wasn’t a breeze at all. The moon was bright outside, but whatever was rattling her window wasn’t visible.

“Here’s the deal,” she said, surprised to find her voice as steady as it was. “Whatever you are, you’re here to annoy me, I’m sure. So either you’re going to leave, or I am going to take this wrench,” - she grabbed it off the nightstand, raising it so it caught the moonlight and glinted - “and I am going to hit you with it until you fall three stories and get a whole bunch of broken bones. The gentry boy said you’re not supposed to be on this side of the stream. That means I get free reign of hitting people.”

The window only rattled, and she heard a slight hissing, like muffled speaking that didn’t let her discern any words. She bared her teeth, holding up the wrench, slowly inching off the bed. After a thought, she lifted the hag stone from her necklace, and peered through it.

In front of her, hanging halfway out the window, was the gentry boy himself. He looked ragged, his vest torn and his wings low. She was sure that his pale face was either stained with juice, or those were bruises. He was eyeing her - actually, no, he was definitely eyeing the wrench - with evident distrust and a fair slice of panic.

“Oh,” she muttered. “It’s you. I thought you said you didn’t want to see me again.” She wasn’t as annoyed as she wanted to be, but he didn’t look so good, and maybe that was helping her be charitable.

“Little prince, I need you to let me in. Debt to be settled later. This cannot wait,” he answered, sentences short and sharp and punctuated with heaving breath.

She sighed, lowering the wrench and not the hag stone. It was probably a good idea to make sure she could still see him. “Fine. You can come in, I guess. I want to know why you’re hanging out in my window.”

He all but stumbled into the room, collapsing to his knees, shoulders heaving with his breath as he tried to get it back under control. His wings rested limp against his back, trailing onto the floor. In the moonlight, they were a thousand colours, setting off some sort of rainbow with his silver hair. In light at all, they were torn, like a rainbow clawed to shreds. It was almost enough to be painful. Not enough to be pitiful, though.

“It… I tried to talk… To the Goblin Queen,” he said, more breathing than speaking. He must have run quite a while to be that out of breath. “She attacked me instead, I… I barely escaped. She has taken my kingdom… right out from under me.”

“And you decided the only place to go was here, to the room of some random teenage girl who threatened you with a wrench,” she muttered. “I really don’t think I want to know your thought process, _or_ be involved with this.”

The faery boy heaved a few more times, and slowly rose to his feet again, not bothering to lift his wings. “Your necklace,” he said, eyeing her. “You have the mark and blessing of the Sea Monarch of Mag Mell. That makes you safer than anywhere else.”

She paused. “It was my mother’s,” she answered warily. “I’m not handing it over.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” he replied. He stumbled past her to kneel at the foot of her bed, strength apparently gone from the effort of standing _and_ talking at the same time. 

“Right. Well.” She clapped her hands together, trying to make sense of it. “This is where things suck for everyone involved. You’re in my house, so you get to follow my rules. That’s what the gentry does to humans, and I’m pretty sure you’re not human, so there. I get to be nice if I want, but if you want my help then you gotta agree not to throw me under the bus or take advantage of a loophole just because you’re probably a million years old and usually smarter than this.”

He gave a short, brutal, wheezy laugh. “I’m fifteen, if that helps. I can’t lie, if that helps too. Deception, maybe, by omission, but I can’t tell you something that isn’t technically true. Please don’t throw me under the cavalry just because you have the technical right to do so.”

She sighed again, trying not to feel too irritated. “Your kind likes cream and milk and honey and stuff, right?”

He looked up, his expression perplexed. “We… do. I don’t think you have any poisons that work on me, though.”

She glowered, and headed downstairs. They had honey and thick cream, and she knew her father would’ve packed scones. If he hadn’t, she might just have to kill him with the wrench instead. But there were, in fact, cinnamon raisin scones sitting on the kitchen counter beside the breadbox, so she grabbed three, slicing them open and pouring a generous amount of honey on one side, slathering cream over the other side. When she was done, she returned to the room with the treat. Food helped her feel more charitable towards people, and eating faery food meant she got stuck in the faery realm. It probably worked the other way, too.

The gentry boy mostly hadn’t moved, still breathing a little heavy. He looked up as she approached, and she noticed his eyes were a very pale shade of violet, like blackberry flowers. She set the plate down in front of him. 

“You get four and I get two, because I just had dinner. Cinnamon raisin, with heavy cream and honey. That’s what you guys like in the legends. I’m going to hope it’s about the same as a cup of coffee for us.”

“You are a blessing among princes.” He started to reach for it, pausing at the last moment, his hand inches away from a scone. He eyed her, his expression suddenly wary. “What is the price for these?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. “Is everything to the lot of you a transaction? Think about it this way. If you eat those and they help, then you can go off and save your kingdom or whatever and get out of my hair. I do not want to mess with the gentry very much. I don’t have a death wish, okay? Fastest way for me to get out of your hair and for you to get out of mine seems to be for you to eat those. I wouldn’t have made them otherwise. Eat.”

He smiled, then, and it was pretty like a sunrise, the way it lit up his face and resounded deep within his eyes. He took a scone, and it was gone in seconds. He ate another with quick gusto and she grinned, taking one of hers and taking a bite out of it. He slowed down with the last two, flicking his wings into what might have been a more comfortable position and spraying her room down with glittering pixie-dust. They ate together in silence, and he looked happy enough.

Once they were finished, she broke the silence. “So. I’m going to assume you need something in order to get your kingdom back. I don’t do sacrificing babies or witchcraft, if it helps.”

He gave a soft scoff, like he didn’t really believe her. “All humans do their own version of that second one. As for I, well… I could use a war carriage that cannot fall, with horses that cannot be killed, and about a thousand men; or something equally useful. Goblins are small, but they kill quickly. Could use an answer to her riddle, too, now that I think about it…”

“Her riddle?” she asked, tilting her head to one side. “This Goblin Queen of yours?”

“She’s not mine, and I greatly dislike her, but yes, her,” he confirmed. “Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all? Certainly not me, I’m far too graceless when I fall. I have until the moon waxes full in about three moonrises before she casts a spell on everything to seal it into her kingdom forever, and that’s about when she kills all of my subjects, and I don’t much care for that. Also, she’s doing it two days before my Ride day, when she’s supposed to hand the world over to me until Samhain. Which she clearly doesn’t want to do very much.”

“Right,” she said, running a hand through one pigtail. They had pretty much until she left back for Dublin. “How do we defeat her? Do we just go up there and kill her, is there a specific way to defeat her, what? If I’m supposed to help, I need answers.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Easy, little prince, please… Today has not been an easy day. We cannot kill her. Not so easily, not without more preparation than we have. She must be outwitted, I think, but she has an army, and at the moment, you are the only thing I have beside my own wings, which are…” He glanced behind him, and winced. “If we defeat her, we may be able to reclaim my kingdom.”

“Will she be in like, your throne room or something?”

“Most likely,” he answered. She reclined back onto her pillow, fidgeting with the hem of her flannel, the wrench resting on her stomach. 

“Can’t you just fly over all the goblins and drop in there swinging with a sword, or whatever it is your kind fight with? It’s either that or fighting through her stupid army, unless you have secret tunnels hidden somewhere that we can bet she won’t find.” She racked her brain, trying to think of all the legends and stories she’d heard, how human heroes had outwitted the kings and queens of the gentry. Most of them involved underhanded tricks, none of which she was particularly good at.

“I cannot fly the distance, no. If we could get through the army, perhaps.” He looked up, a strange glint in his eyes. He sat up on the side of the bed, suddenly alert. “She’s coming,” he whispered. “She knows I’m here.” His wings fluttered suddenly tense. She sat up.

“Your kind hates iron, right? I have iron.”

“Iron kills her, and it also kills me. Let’s stick to what won’t turn the world into a bloodbath to drown out the heavens.”

She glowered, tucking her wrench into her pocket. “Great. No shortcuts, I guess. I really doubt you guys are into the whole ‘kidnapping humans’ thing still, and you guys _definitely_ started running away as we made technology. I can make a science project or two without burning this place down. Let’s go play with the Goblin Queen.”

“Little prince, _wait_ , please--” he started, incapable of finishing. She was already on her way downstairs, eyebrow furrowed over the hag stone like some sort of monocle. She wasn’t giving him any chance but to follow.

Less than a quarter hour later found them both downstairs, shuffling around hunting for anything they could use to hit the Goblin Queen with. The gentry boy’s greatest idea so far had been ‘run like hell’, and she’d contributed ‘you distract her and I hit her with a frying pan from behind’. They’d vetoed each other’s suggestions rather quickly.

“She won’t think it’s me if she thinks I’m just a human,” he said rather abruptly, looking up from the silverware drawer. “Can you make a convincing disguise? I’m sure such talents are still within common use…?”

“I’m not a seamstress, no. Do those wings fold?” She stepped over to the living room, grabbing her father’s hooded sweatshirt off the coathook. “Because if they fold, I’ve got clothes.”

He fluttered his wings uncertainly, but reached for the hoodie all the same. It didn’t take long to pull his hair up into a bun - it looked rather ridiculous, with the way his hair puffed up into short spikes up at the top - and to hide his crown under a floorboard, but he soon looked like an ordinary teenager, if she ignored the eyes. His ear-tips had been hidden with his hair, which surprisingly wasn’t too hard to do.

“Yeah, that works,” she muttered. “You look human to me.”

He stepped into a silent spin, slow and steady, to make sure it would hold. She nodded in satisfaction. “Now we need a way through her army… We can perhaps fight her, with your diversions, but certainly not an army. Even on horseback we would be pulled down and killed.”

She paused, stopping dead. “Is the only way into the kingdom crossing the stream from my backyard?”

He looked surprised by the question. “The stream is the border right into Melvich,” he said, slowly. “Halkirk has been inching on us for a while, but there is a stone fence nobody goes past. There is also a few signs.”

Thankfully, she knew where all of those were. “Brilliant,” she said, smiling. “You can use a map, right? That’s not entirely a human concept?”

He glowered at her. She grinned. “Good. I can get you your pretty war carriage that doesn’t fall. It’s somewhat iron, but that’s all the engine, so you won’t be too near it.”

His glower faded, replaced by panic. “I… beg your pardon?” She clapped her hands and headed towards the kitchen, snatching her dad’s keys off the dedicated hook. 

“First, we are grabbing the emergency supplies and two gas cans.” She held up a finger, counting out loud. “Then we are driving back to civilization, so we can hit up a gas station. Then we are going to go reclaim your kingdom, and then you get to kindly never do this to me again. I’m missing a party because of this stupid trip, let me mope about it in peace.” She grinned, holding up the keys, heading towards the door so she could go get the gas cans. His hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“There is one question I must ask before you do this,” he said, and his tone was a warning all on its own. “I am sure you have a name, however-”

“Not a single _fucking_ chance, Mr. Butterfly,” she snapped, cutting him off. “I’m not that stupid.”

He sighed. “If you would let me finish. I am sure you have one, however, using it in the presence of any of us can be… devastating, by human terms. You need to be using one that doesn’t belong to you, while you are in our company. I am not going to ask for your name. It would be the height of rudeness. I simply need something to catch your attention with over the sounds of battle.”

She paused, anger fading. Now she felt a little bit bad for snapping. “Call me Alba like everyone else does,” she muttered. “Could I get the same from you? Otherwise I’m just going to refer to you exclusively as something that may get more rude the longer I have to do this.”

He gave her a wry smile, and let her shoulder go, following her outside. “I tend to answer to Minos, when I must go to the human realm." 

“Minos, then.” She nodded, satisfied, opening the small chest that contained a spare tire, a toolbox, and two dusty gas cans. She handed him the gas, figuring there might be iron in the other two. “Why do you call me a prince? I don’t think I pass very well as a boy. It’s flattering and all, but it doesn’t make sense.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you? You seem very much like one to me. A prince who might yet rescue the faery king from his own mistakes.”

She glowered at him as she passed, walking over to her dad’s car and stuffing the tire and toolbox in the back. If she had chains… They weren’t going to be able to get to a hardware store in time, and she didn’t have much money unless she stole her dad’s credit card, which he would _absolutely_ notice. Wasn’t much goblin-warding they were going to be able to do. “I mean, I guess I’ve always thought being a boy must be better than being a girl. I know boys who were born in girls’ bodies, and they’re still boys. Wish I was one, though. But I’m not.”

Minos only gave a short laugh, less brutal than the other she’d heard. He set the gas cans down beside the toolbox, wincing a little and stepping away the moment they were in the back. “Funny, you describe to me the exact idea of being a boy. What are you if you would not wish to be what you are? I think you make a very fitting prince indeed.”

Something flickered in her chest, the way Minos referred to her like that. “All right,” she said, slowly. “It’s not true, not really, but I mean, humans are good at lying. If she thinks me a boy, then she won’t find me ever again after this, so I’ll pretend to be a boy, and you’ll pretend to be human, and we’ll surprise her into giving up your kingdom. Deal?”

“Deal,” Minos said, softly. He smiled, and Albafica smiled back, wondering how many humans would kill for the smile of a faery boy, and thought maybe the party was worth missing after all.

He closed the back, dusting off his pajamas, and unlocked the doors. “Car rules are simple. Seatbelt on. Windows can be cracked until I get cold. Driver picks the music, shotgun suffers.”

Minos stopped. “Are we… getting into this carriage? It doesn’t have any horses.”

“It has gasoline and an engine, which means it’s powered on fire and lightning. Horses couldn’t hold a match to this.” He opened the car door, grinning, gesturing to shotgun side. “Go on, get in.”

Minos’ cheeks dusted themselves a little green, but warily, like he expected it to bite him, opened the passenger side and climbed in. Albafica pulled himself up into the driver’s seat, holding out the seatbelt before putting it on so Minos could see. He copied it, attempting to find a way to be comfortable under it.

He turned the key in the ignition, listened to the car start up, handed the map to Minos, and stepped on the gas. Minos swore something in Scottish that he didn’t actually know how to translate, finding purchase in grabbing the sides and hanging on. He grinned, watching him out of the corner of his eye. They weren’t even doing twenty kilometres an hour. Once they hit the highway, Minos might actually start screaming. 

“Here’s how this works,” he said, almost singsong. It was maybe a little vindictive to watch him panic, but to be honest, Minos’ fear was keeping him away from his own: he’d never driven like this before. Only down his neighbourhood with his father, and in a parking lot. If Minos was going to panic over being in a car at all, he could drive it properly. “We are going to drive out to the nearest gas station. It’s about forty-five minutes out. We need the gas because the car does. Basically, you give a horse grass and it produces the fast. You give a car gas, and it’ll produce the fast too, except its fast is way faster, and we are in a box of steel designed to go through most things and crumple in ways that will save us from death and as much injury as possible when it can’t. I do not want to total my dad’s car, and if I do, I’m gonna want another one. Make sense?”

“You are planning to drive a modern human carriage into my kingdom,” Minos said faintly. Albafica wasn’t entirely sure if that was fear or incredulousness. He also didn’t quite care.

“Yep.”

“Either I am going to die horribly tonight, or this will be a fantastic story to tell in a season when I go to visit my brother. Duly noted.”

Albafica smiled and pulled off the dirt road onto the onramp for the highway, and stepped on the gas. The speedometre indicated inching up to one-twenty kilometres an hour. Minos’ face was nothing but sheer terror. He leaned over and smacked the radio, turning it onto a pop-rock channel. Nothing quite like painfully human music to set the adventure straight. He started laughing, pulling into the fast lane, and drove.


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know what's fun? Driving a stolen jeep into Faeryland. At least, Albafica thinks so. Minos isn't sure if he agrees, but it's certainly new and dangerous and very much human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight, this is as far as I've got written atm. Chapters four, five, and maybe six or seven I think maybe will be posted over the next few days as I write them. I legally cannot wait any longer to post this. Ueugheurge.<

Albafica had found it deeply entertaining when they got to the gas station, Minos immediately dismissed it as ‘human and uncultured’, and then told him he was going to help put gas in the car. Honestly, he could’ve been way worse at it: he managed to stumble through the self-serve menu, asking how much gas to put into the car and only getting confused with the method of payment: Albafica’s debit card, mostly used when he was out with his friends. The car had about a half tank, but he wanted a full tank if he was going to drive it into faeryland. He didn’t force him to actually put the gas in, though, funny as it would’ve been.

They were back onto the road not long later, two gas cans full in case it took them more than he expected. Minos had agreed that yes, if they survived and he was out of gas, then someone could be sent to fetch more so he could bring the car back to his dad and not leave them stranded without it. 

Minos had relaxed a little on the trip back, surprisingly. Once they were close enough to the forest, they were able to navigate to a better way of crossing into the faery side, apparently called Berthelien. The trick was to go downriver towards Melvich, where there would be a stone dock from the human side. All they had to do past that was drive right off the dock and catch air, hopefully landing on the other side. As the exact point of the border was midway through, it was actually mildly likely.

Not long, the dock was in sight. He pressed his foot a bit further on the gas, reaching down with one hand and taking the hag stone, pressing it into his right eye like a monocle. “Oh, you do not need that now,” Minos said, waving a hand over him, covering him in the slightest glimmer of pixie dust.

His sight seemed to clear, and he let the hag stone fall back into place against his collarbone. The other side of the steam was simply chock full of goblins, some on horseback, some on foot with some very impressive wooden clubs and silvery swords.

But none of them were driving a modern Jeep that had already taken a few offroad journeys before, and Minos knew a pathway large enough to fit the car. The corner of his mouth twitched. Tonight was going to be a _very_ fun night.

He pushed the gas pedal to the floor, straightening out the car, rolling up his window. Minos mirrored it, looking supremely concerned. “Here’s where things might get a little bumpy. You’re going to navigate me to wherever the hell we need to be. Let’s go.”

They hit the stone, and then cleared it, and the car was sailing over the border. The goblins looked incredulous. Then they started moving out of the way. Albafica kept the gas pedal pinned, a brutal laugh escaping him at the first sickening _crunch_ of the grill hitting a goblin. There had to be five more as they landed. Minos looked grossed out, and he didn’t feel much like caring.

After the first half-dozen goblins got squished, the rest moved out of his way pretty quickly. The rearview mirror was telling him they were beginning to chase them, mostly on horseback, but the car was now clocking one-forty and it wasn’t slowing down. Horses generally galloped at about fifty. They were leaving them in the dust, and the goblin army seemed to know it.

“This is either madness, or it is brilliance,” Minos muttered, knuckles seemingly white against the door handle.

“It’s both, and I won’t deny, this is kind of fun. This way to the castle?”

“I… Yes, this way. Just stay to the main path. It will turn to silver brick when we near the castle grounds.”

They drove for maybe another fifteen minutes before the pathway changed to a silver-brick road, not unlike some of the older, more historic streets of Dublin. He slowed, easing off the gas. Then he saw the open gates, and slowed to a reasonable speed, coming to a stop at the opening just past them. Everything was dark, lit only by three small, almost-full moons. It looked almost haunted, with every lantern out and without a person in sight except for frozen guards at the gates.

“Well, I got you through the army,” he said, finding his tone darkening, turning off the ignition. “This is where you lead, and we do… whatever we need to take back your kingdom.”

Minos nodded, muttering a couple of quick words until a sword - sheath and belt and all - appeared in his lap. He strapped them on, hand on the door lock. “Please don’t swing your weapon at me while we’re fighting,” he said, softly, eyes on Albafica’s wrench, still faithfully in his belt loop. He pulled it out, smiling. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, not right now, anyway. Let’s go.” They opened the doors, the guards silent at the gates. Albafica locked the doors, stuffing the keys in his pocket, and they headed onward.

The grand hall was very different to the first time he had seen it, and for some strange reason, he saw the change as somehow an offence, glowering at it. The hall was dark, and lit only by moonlight, and what caught his eye first was the statues.

They had to be fae-folk, there was nothing else they _could_ be. Some of them were eight feet tall with birdcages for torsos or antlers and hooves, some were small with glittery seaglass wings and silk shawls. But they were stone. Every last one of them was turned to stone, frozen into whatever dance they’d been having.

The second thing that caught his eye was the Goblin Queen herself, or what he figured was her, all cherry-soda-red dress and glass of what he _hoped_ was wine in hand, lounging on what had to be Minos’ throne.

Minos, beside him, drew back his lips to display sharpened-point teeth in a snarl. “This conquest is strictly _not allowed_ , Pandora,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. She only laughed in response, tilting her head very slightly to eye them.

“Oh, dearest King, isn’t it wonderful how much you try? I win. Even with your little mortal boy with you, I still win.” Her voice was smug and carried without yelling, and he wanted nothing more than to go over there and hit her with a wrench.

He held it behind his back, and marched up to her. She probably wouldn’t see it coming. Three paces from the raised dais, his feet stopped dead, and he found he couldn’t move. Queen Pandora, the Goblin Queen, smiled at him brightly.

“Guards, take his weapon from him,” she said, ever so softly. Three stepped up to him, two taking his elbows, the other twisting his wrist until he dropped the wrench. The guard squealed in anger, recoiling from the touch, and he smiled back, teeth bared.

“Iron,” he said, mirroring her soft tone. “I really think it’s only fair, don’t you? Iron and steel and grease.”

The guard who had grabbed his wrench swapped with one that held his right elbow, who produced what looked like a slice of silk, wrapping it around his metal glove before picking up the wrench.

“Hmhm, so you have,” Pandora said. Her lips were glossy dark, her ears quite pointed, and he wished her hair didn’t remind him so much of David Bowie straight out of _Labyrinth_. Minos’ did too, now that he thought about it. “But, ah, now you belong to me.”

“I don’t recall ever giving you permission.” Behind him, Minos let out a sharp sound of pain. He winced, looking up with a newfound fury. Minos was, unfortunately, his ticket home. “But I might give you permission, if you won’t mind playing a little game with me.”

She shifted her position, leaning forward. “And what little game do you think you can play with the Goblin Queen, little mortal boy?”

He smiled now, soft and sweet, the kind he gave pretty much only when he wanted to get the hell out of somewhere without being injured. “How about a game where if I win, you need to stop doing this, and if you win, you get my heart and my name?”

Behind him, Minos swore. “Don’t you _dare_ do that, damn it!”, quickly followed by a yelp of pain. He tried to turn, failing thanks to the guards. Pandora laughed.

“Aw, it seems you have a bit of a weakness. How about I spare his life, and you get out of my new kingdom?” Her voice was suddenly sweeter, syrupy, and he thought he might forgo the wrench and a cast iron frying pan for a chair made entirely of iron that he might be able to hit her with.

His smile widened. “I have a game even sweeter, I should think. Double or nothing. We play for his life. You set him free, and we both go after him. If I save him, you give up his kingdom and spare everyone in it. If you kill him, you get to do what you like with the both of us.”

Something slammed in the guard beside him. The something was Minos, free of whatever had just restrained him, burns across his face and looking incredibly angry. Pandora whispered something, and they both froze at the spot, incapable of fighting through it. “You bet too much, little prince,” Minos muttered, apparently the most he could manage.

“As part of our deal, _mortal_ ,” Pandora spat, making the word ‘mortal’ sound like a genuine insult. “I should take to remind you-”

“Yeah, so you can kill me,” he snapped back, cutting her off. Beside him, Minos looked slightly less terrified. “Great to rub that in my face, like it matters. You can kill me, sure. So can old age, and every bad strain of the flu. So can a mildly inconvenienced goose. You’re not exactly special, _princess_ , don’t act all high and mighty because killing you is harder. That’s not an achievement, either-”

He was cut off by one of the guards backhanding him. It hurt, but it wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever felt, and right now, he was too angry for anything else. “I take on his debts and his boons, _mortal_. Your fealty is to me. You are in my debt, as you were and are no longer in his, and I assure you, your little game will be so much more fun for it.”

She snapped her fingers. Beneath him, his legs buckled, and he fell.

He blinked awake, finding the ground below him to be silver stone under the rising moons. He sat up, and then stood up, snarling, scanning the area. He appeared to be in the castle gardens. A few feet away from him was Minos, curled on his side facing him, unconscious. His father’s hoodie was gone, leaving the other in nothing but his blouse and pants. Albafica knelt to him. 

“Hey,” he said, gently tapping the back of his hand up against his cheek. “Heyyyy. Wake up. I need to know what she just did to you.”

Minos groaned, slowly shifting into an upright position. His eyes remained closed, but his expression was all that of pain. “What…?” He blinked those blackberry-flower eyes up at him, and his expression furrowed more. “Who are you, and why am I out here?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you _seriously_ don’t recognize me,” he muttered, running a hand through his bangs. “Please tell me you remember. The Goblin Queen took your kingdom and you ran to me for help and now we’re playing some stupid game for your life and she froze all your subjects into stone.”

Minos blinked. “I do not recall asking my servants to offer me a silly human,” he muttered, and rose to his knees. He stumbled, hand slamming onto the ground for stability. “I…” He looked over his shoulder, and fell silent. Albafica leaned over to see what he was looking at.

Minos, with wings like the world’s biggest blanket on an eight-year-old, was wingless. They had been stripped cleanly from his back, nothing but the indication of surgery scars saying that he had ever had them. Albafica stared, and Minos held frozen, like he didn’t believe it was real.

“Oh, that’s just _low_ ,” Albafica muttered, rising to his feet. He offered his hands to Minos, feeling the rage itch inside of him. She’d outwitted him better than he’d realized. “Come on. We need to win her stupid game or we both die.”

“I… I don’t believe you,” Minos said, softly, his eyes fixed at where his wings should’ve been. “I don’t _trust_ you. Did you do this to me?!”

Albafica shook his head. “God no. I’m not that kind of cruel. How about we go back to your throne room and go fix this.”

Minos slowly nodded, taking his hands at long last, leaning on him to rise. Once he was standing, Albafica slipped his arm around his waist, partially to guide him, partially to make sure he didn’t fall over again. They started moving, slowly, walking back towards the castle. Minos was mostly leading, knowing his way around here far better than Albafica did, still stumbling a little but gaining confidence in walking with every step.

They got to the hall and pushed open a side door, and the scene was frankly even more horrifying. Minos’ subjects weren’t frozen in stone anymore, they were dancing, but they were also crying, and screaming, and a few of them had blood-soaked shoes, like…

Like they weren’t able to _stop_. Albafica held Minos at the waist, driving his heels into the ground as Minos moved to run into the hall. “Only I get to control them, and not like _that_ ,” he snarled, and Albafica pulled him backward into the hall, slamming the door behind them.

“Let’s not get caught thirty seconds in,” he said, shaking him at the shoulders to catch his attention. Minos looked up at him, eyes narrowed and angry and a muscle in his jaw twitching with fury. “Listen to me. We need to find another way. The Goblin Queen has them and we’re playing a game for your life. I save you, we get to live. Got it?”

“She…. she took my _wings_ ,” he hissed, like he’d finally heard Albafica’s words. “I am going to burn her at the Iron Tree for this. If we get them back, that will give us better odds… I believe we need to stay together, since you know the game and I know the _rules_.” There was an emphasis on the last word, like this was especially important. Knowing the legends, it probably was.

Albafica turned, slipping his hand into Minos’ to drag him off, and there, on the other side of the hallway, were three doors. They were quite obviously of fae origin: all curved from a point in a sort of bell shape, but otherwise, completely different.

On one side, to his left, a door made from wood and moss, darkened and magical, with roses in an array of colours around the frame and the glitter of pixie dust. To the middle, a door of bloody stone and woven with aged, broken branches, a scattering of bone fragments at its bottom. To the right, a door made of sea-stone and abalone, adorned with shells and pearls. He eyed them. Minos took a single step back.

“This is your choice,” he murmured. “Your choice alone.”

It was only slightly a choice at all. The woodland door, of all the roses in the world, that he didn’t want to admit he loved more than anything, even now. The door of blood and bone, which seemed to offer something he’d never had… He could feel the rage still, with Minos cleaving to his arm but behind him. And the door of the sea, the one that promised all the world below the waves, if only he opened it.

All doors that he would consider. But as he was… This was faeryland. Assuming he survived, he was pretty sure all he needed to do to find these doors again was ask Minos, and if he could not, well. Faeries loved the roses, and they loved brutality more. How funny, the one they loved the least so far was the one he knew he’d never get otherwise.

He took the barnacled handle, ignoring the way it cut through his palm as he turned it, and pushed the sea door open, stepping through and dragging Minos with him. It opened, only somewhat surprisingly, onto the forest. The forest was mistier now, and tasted ever-so-slightly of seasalt and mourning.

“You chose the sea,” Minos remarked, walking now vaguely easily in tandem with him, his hand gently in the crook of Albafica’s elbow. “Interesting. You smell more like roses.”

“I’m sure I smell like dirt and gasoline, really,” he answered, more focused on the pathway than anything else. He didn’t have a car or a wrench to get him through, if they were attacked. He doubted Minos knew how to fight. They kept walking, following the pathway, watching as it looped and curled in on itself, like they were wandering in circles.

They didn’t talk. The silence that hung between them was one mostly of mourning, Minos silent mostly because of his wings and Albafica from anger that she had the sheer gall to take them from him. A weight pressed itself onto his shoulder, and he was only somewhat surprised to find that Minos had decided to lean his head against him as they walked. He didn’t look happy.

He sighed, smiling a little. He didn’t mind it quite as much as he would have expected himself to. They kept walking, and after what seemed like a half hour or so, they approached what seemed to be a clearing.

At the middle of the clearing was nothing more than a stone, and in the centre, nothing more than a sword. “Oh, come _on_ ,” he muttered, stopping at the threshold of the clearing. Minos looked up again, lifting his head. “Seriously? You already have a king, and my name certainly isn’t Arthur.”

“Caliburn,” Minos murmured, beside him. “We do not have the true sword in the stone, Caliburn, any more. King Arthur broke it.”

“Thought that was Excalibur,” Albafica said, slowly approaching the sword.

“No, that was the one gifted to him by the Lady of the Lake. They are not the same weapon. And I fear this one is neither, and will not help me in regaining my crown.”

“Your crown is under a floorboard at my house, but point taken. If it’s neither, then clearly it needs to hand itself over so I can use it and we can go get your wings. This is stupid.” Minos let go of him and stepped back, allowing him to take the challenge. He stepped right up to it, eyeing the handle. He reached for it, found the leather to be soft and worn under his sick, and pulled.

Pain erupted from where he’d touched it, like he’d put his hands on white-hot coals. He jumped back, swearing, feeling tears start to rise from the pain. He all but fell over, staring at it in disbelief.

“Iron,” Minos said softly, now kneeling beside him. “It is all right.” He whispered a few words, and the pain slowly subsided, until it was gone. He looked down at his hands. They were covered in pixie dust, but otherwise fine.

“Thanks,” he muttered, letting Minos pull him back up to his feet. He glanced over at the sword. “It wasn’t hot when I first touched it, and also, I’m not a faery, so I don’t think it should’ve burned like that.”

“Tell that to the sword,” Minos answered, shrugging. “You’re evidently fae enough for it.”

“Oh, that is _bull_ ,” he snarled, turning on his heel towards the sword again. “Listen here, you awful little butterknife. I. Am. Human. Iron doesn’t burn me. Fire burns me and really hot liquids burn me but you sure don’t unless you’re molten.”

“Little prince, I highly doubt-” Minos began, somewhat dryly.

“Save it. What this godawful little thing doesn’t want to realize is that I’m human and it’s not supposed to do that. Because it isn’t. I am so sick and tired of this, my dad’s car is parked in the faery king’s castle driveway, and I am missing a party for this stupid crap, and the only guy who can get me out of here doesn’t have any _wings_ , and I am in an impossible forest with an impossible guy and just once I want something to be possible. King Arthur was human and he pulled the sword from the stone. I am going to do the same, or so help me whoever’s listening I am going to _ruin_ everyone’s evening.”

He stepped forward, angry enough to be confident again, and he reached for the sword, and pulled.

It came free, with not a single bit of fuss at all, easy as a warm knife out of butter. Minos let out a low whistle behind him, and he turned around, twirling the wrench around his finger and allowing it to come to rest on his shoulder with a very smug smile. “What did I tell you?”

Minos’ face very suddenly fell, like there was something he could see that Albafica couldn’t. He sighed. “What’s the stone behind me doing?”

“You might want to turn around.” He shifted his weight to his other leg and turned, slowly, mildly annoyed with the whole deal. Then he stepped back, out of the way, watching as the stone cracked and split and seemed to expand, like a flower unfolding, as it became a granite fountain, adorned with a stone mermaid. He stepped back until his hip brushed Minos’, who for his credit, slipped his hand into the crook of his elbow again.

He debated hitting the stone mermaid with a wrench, just to prove who was boss in this impossible land. The mermaid started to move, granite seeming to fade into silvery scales. He blinked as she moved and began to stretch, long, sky-blue hair not too different from his own cascading down her back.

“Well, well, _look_ at what the doors have brought us now,” she said, her voice musical and light. She reminded him, for a moment, of his mother, when he was still small enough for her to be alive. His gut clenched a little - how _dare_ this realm try to steal that from him.

“Do I need to hit you with a wrench?” he asked in return, raising it just a little off his shoulder so she saw it.

Her expression turned from mild confusion to something clearer, and more visibly delight. “Oh, I was wondering when _you’d_ come,” she exclaimed. “You don’t look a bit like him, but here you are. We’ve been waiting ever-so-long, and it took the Goblin Queen to call you here. Brilliant. I haven’t spent fifteen years coming up with all these prophecies for nothing, then!”

Albafica opened his mouth to argue, and Minos stepped forward. “O Lady of the Fountain, Who Guards the Sword, what is your wisdom?” She clicked her tongue in approval, assuming a very regal pose that he thought came off as overdramatic. “Hear me now, hark my words, travellers from the midlands. _The wingless king and the mortal knight: Go to face the hidden light. These innocent hearts are sworn to the shore, a whispered promise turned to a roar. Make thrice a journey to meet the Goblin Queen, or forever be lost to a world unseen._ ”

Her voice was suddenly musical without ever shifting into singing. A lump rose in his throat at the memory, his mother at the dinner table of the cottage, a teacup in their hand, laughing at the world, green-blue hair wavy and curled around their shoulders, able to mimic everything in a musical, not-quite-singing melody.

“Thrice a journey to meet the Goblin Queen,” Minos murmured beside him, drawing him back to reality. “Your… weapon, must have been the first journey. We must make two more, if we are to win this little game of yours.”

He thought for a second, going over the riddle in his mind. “Do we know about a hidden light?” he asked, voice a dry deadpan of resignation. 

“That’s usually Berthelien itself, so probably just reminding us that we must face the Goblin Queen. Prophecies love their repetition,” Minos answered, looking thoughtful. Albafica sighed, deeply.

The mermaid laughed. “I think you two should be on your way. I’ve done my part for you, so best to hop to it!” She was quite suddenly gone, turned back into a simple, smooth rock. The wrench, for a moment, felt quite different in his hand. He turned to look at it, and found it was nothing more than a foot-long, black rose.

“What did she do to my _wrench_?!” he blurted, swinging it around in front of him. “That’s two-hundred-times not even fair. I didn’t hit her with it! She doesn’t get to take it!”

Minos leaned forward, smiling like it was the funniest thing in the world, and tapped the stem with the back of two fingers. It shifted back into a wrench. He tapped it again, and it was a flower. “I don’t know,” he said, the mirth creeping into his voice, “I think that’ll make a _wonderful_ disguise for it, little prince.”

Albafica sighed, letting his huff run all the way down to his ribs in annoyance. “Right. Well. You understood the crazy mermaid’s riddle, right? Where next, faery king? I get the feeling what she said is supposed to _help_.”

Minos only smiled more, and the feeling that most people he knew would give up their hearts and everything they had to give for smiles like that creeped into his mind. He ignored it. It wasn’t like it was going to be a useful feeling. “We go see the Goblin Queen, and escape alive. The third time, we get the chance to win. Threes are very special in Berthelien, you see.” 

He offered his hand. Albafica debated for a moment, then huffed and put it back in the crook of his elbow, turning to leave the clearing. He kind of hoped they’d be done before dawn: if they weren’t, he was going to have to answer far too many questions tomorrow from his father.


	4. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know what's just as fun as illegal driving in faeryland? Terrorizing people with the laws of physics, and even better, threatening to hit faeries with an iron wrench. It's not the machete, but it'll do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG. Alba's dysphoria, largely based off my own, hit me in the face and discouraged me a fair bit, so then I rewrote it later. Anyway. It's smooth sailing from here on out - I have my plot, I know what needs to happen, and we're all good!!  
> I have also been encouraged by Tsuko and Kiril to write a sequel. That'll require more planning, so laterrrrr, once I have IKM finished and Aeternum properly plotted and most of my current oneshots written. So a few months out, probably. :p  
> Anyway. Here ya go.

Minos knew every shortcut and magical way through the foggy forest, and Albafica spent most of it twirling his wrench around his fingers and watching for any sign of danger. He wasn’t going to lie, he still felt like hitting a few things. He felt kind of like he was in _Labyrinth_ , with the whispering in the woods like there were creatures watching them from just where he couldn’t see. He stepped closer to Minos, eyes focused forward, the hairs on the back of his neck rising.

“Are you okay?” Minos asked, softly, his stride regal and his hands cupping Albafica’s elbow.

“There are things _watching_ us,” he hissed through his teeth, biting down on the inside of his cheek in an attempt to calm himself down. There weren’t many things he hated more than a gaze that had no right to be there, and they were there, and he couldn’t see them, couldn’t tell what he knew would be in their eyes if he caught them staring-

“Those are simply the denizens of these woods,” Minos answered. When Albafica looked over, his smile was soft and sorrowful. “They aren’t going to bother us, nor are they spies for the Goblin Queen.”

“They’re _watching_ me,” Albafica repeated, emphasis on the adjective. He couldn’t have explained why it bothered him so much. It didn’t matter where he was: the school hallway or on the street or in the mall or with friends. Someone was always watching, their smiles too sharp, their eyes where they shouldn’t be. He’d stopped being okay with anyone but his father taking pictures of him a long time ago. No matter what he did, he’d never be invisible. It had never felt correct to be seen at all, so it was only better if nobody ever saw him unless he wanted to be seen. He’d kept withdrawing. And now there were more people watching, and he couldn’t see them, and he couldn’t make them stop.

Minos cocked his head to one side, scanning his face, looking confused. “You are a human in a fae-folk forest, when the kingdom is under siege, walking beside the king. That would make you a curiosity, would it not?”

“What they see isn’t who I am,” he muttered, lengthening his stride, pulling Minos along. The faster they were out of the forest, the faster they were away from people, the less he’d want to claw his own face off.

Minos laughed a little, allowing himself to be dragged along, or maybe the lack of wings was just ruining his ability to keep up. “In our realm, that’s a good thing, little prince. You’re the human. You can lie to all of us, all at once, and we cannot argue.”

Albafica didn’t bother to answer. It wasn’t an argument to his problem. Minos wasn’t understanding, and it was irking him even more. He focused on the worn dirt path in front of them, noting the clumps of bluebells, trying to ignore the painful feeling of someone staring at him. The path split ahead of them, one darker path with a single will o’ the wisp marking it, the other with small rays of sunlight drifting through the canopy.

Minos tugged at his arm and took the darker path. “Don’t those things kill you?” Albafica yelped, attempting to slow down and failing next to Minos’ stride.

“They lead you towards your destiny, or so we tell the humans. Right now, this little escort of ours has a door open to head back to the castle. Shortcut.” Minos pulled him along, and the will o’ the wisp circled them, and the scene quite abruptly changed.

They were standing in the middle of an ornately decorated hallway in the castle. It was a different wing than where they’d been previously: the carpet below them was soft, pale velvet, matching the curtains hung loosely over every window. The flames in every candleholder were a deep violet, the colour of amethyst bottled and turned to flame. Minos walked easily down the hall to the two doors at the end, big and adorned with golden paint.

“Little prince, we cannot at any point go to a ball without being dressed for it. The guards would throw us out before we even got close. Nor am I going to confront the Goblin Queen in _this_.” Minos gestured to the blouse and pants, and pushed the doors open. Albafica rolled his eyes and followed him in. At the point, he was just going to accept that teleportation was also now apparently in the realm of possibility. He was fairly sure quantum physics said ‘no’ to the idea of teleportation. A wormhole or doorway or vehicle, sure. Teleportation was just not allowed outside of a video game.

The room before them was pretty obviously a master bedroom. Minos’ bed had been pushed into one corner - the only proper place for a bed to be, in his opinion - and most of the room was taken up by various possessions, a desk, and a frankly impressive collection of decorative weapons. Albafica stepped up to a rack of short swords, admiring the flourishes added to each one.

“These don’t look like steel,” he commented. 

“Silver,” Minos answered, heading to the side opposite the closed balcony, pulling open what sounded like a well-used door. “They don’t kill, but they do hurt. They’re also sharp, and I don’t think it’s wise to be bleeding all over all my possessions.”

“They’re not decorative?” he asked, the thought occurring to him that they might not be. With the tensions being this high between Berthelien and wherever the Goblin Queen actually lived, it almost made sense. “Seems like a really bad place to put them, you know, right next to where you sleep. Don’t even have to sneak one in.”

“Again, they don’t kill, and the racks are enchanted. Only I can remove them from their places. We’re not going to be slicing things open at the moment. We are going to reclaim my kingdom.” Albafica huffed and turned around, folding his arms. He was about to ask what Minos was even doing, when he stepped out of a walk-in closet with two hangers of full, matching outfits, looking very pleased with himself.

Albafica took one look and scoffed, eyeing the dark violet waistcoat that he wasn’t entirely sure _wasn’t_ made entirely out of rosevines, thorny without a single flower. How it laid flat, he had no idea. “Nobody’s letting me go in a _tux_. I’m not that kind of girl who could pull it off.”

“Of course not; that would require being a girl in the first place, and at the moment, you are not. They are enchanted and will fit you perfectly, and my wardrobe is also enchanted, and would give us only things that would look excellent and keep with the current fashions. The bathroom is behind you, if you would prefer to change there. Come back out when you’re done, I personally am going to take the honour of styling your hair.” Minos held out one of the two outfits, smiling.

He was almost too pissed off to even appreciate the smile. He eyed the outfit, and didn’t move. Minos raised an eyebrow. “Come now, little prince. I am currently wearing your clothes, it only makes sense you should have the honour of also wearing mine. You are going to look just fine.”

Albafica held still. The idea of clawing his own face off was creeping back into his mind. Minos lowered the outfit, eyeing him, a different light in his eyes. It wasn’t a light he knew how to recognize.

“You don’t like being looked at,” he said, slowly. “I have offered you an identity other than the one you were given, and you haven’t argued, and you have taken to it like a bird who thinks it’s a more comfortable cage to fly within. But when that cage is embellished, you’re having issues with that, as well… I’ll make you a deal.”

Albafica wasn’t sure when his memories had started to come back. When Minos’ wings had disappeared, what had to be less than two hours ago, he hadn’t recognized him at all. He raised an eyebrow, untrusting, unwilling to take whatever deal he offered.

“If you take these clothes, and you put them on, I swear to you that when you look in the mirrors of this realm, what you see there will reflect your desires. I do not think at the moment that you know them - it seems to me you only know what you don’t want. The clothes will change to reflect you. They will return to their original form when I claim them back from you, but until then, they will be true to your heart’s desires.”

“What’s the catch?” He could almost feel the numbness sinking through him. There were few things he hated more than having to dress up. He was almost thankful for his school uniform - there was no way to make it less painful to wear, but at least everyone hated it equally. He wasn’t the odd one out.

Minos’ smile was lopsided. “If I am a lucky man tonight, you’ll stop arguing with whether my wardrobe knows what it’s doing. If I am not, at least I’ll know the spells can be improved upon.”

Albafica took a deep breath, forcing down the numbness, and took the outfit. He stepped away into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. It wasn’t too small, and honestly seemed more of a changing room than anything else. He set the outfit down on the countertop, eyeing it. The waistcoat was some sort of suit jacket with a tail. The outside was darkened, dyed, thorny rosevines woven into some sort of material. The inside was silk. Below it was a vest of some firmer material, almost a midnight black with golden thread embroidered into rose blossoms. Below that was a white blouse, masculine and with lace on the edges of the cuffs. The pants were dark dress pants with a belt loop and pockets, the vest’s golden embroidery trailing down the side seams.

He turned his back to the mirror, swallowed down the numbness, set his wrench down beside him, and forced himself to change.

When he was done, he was surprised to find that the clothing felt almost loose. Not too loose to be baggy, not too tight that he’d be constantly aware that he was dressed up far too fancy for his own comfort. He looked down, trying to adjust the collar of the blouse, and when he let out a sigh and looked up, staring off into the space, the motion beside him caught the corner of his eye. He turned his head to the side to face it.

It was the mirror, yes, but the image within it was… not what he expected. His face was very slightly different: face not so round, cheeks pale, dark blue eyes, a birthmark just below his left eye. His eyebrows were a little thicker than they had been the day before, still sky-blue. His hair was still tied back in two low pigtails at the back of his neck, held by faux-lace ties. He wasn’t any taller than he had been, but…

His waistcoat was velvet, a deep violet bordering on blue, the velvet lengthening only slightly at the cuffs of the jacket by his wrists, enough for a pattern of roses and if he wasn’t mistaken, skulls. The vest had turned to leather, skulls curled around thorns and flowers at each side, the threading still golden. The collar was high on his neck, revealing very little of his neck at all. It barely betrayed the shape of his body, hourglassed and painful to view in a mirror, and yet, he almost felt comfortable with the image he saw now.

He reached over, gripping the wrench, gave the reflection his best glower, and headed back into Minos’ bedroom. Minos was already done changing, and his outfit was gray-blue where his was violet, adorned with silver embroidery and a ruby necklace around his throat. His crown was more of a hairband, giving off the air of a halo, almost.

He turned around, smiling, dipping his head once he caught the sight of Albafica’s outfit. “What did I tell you? You are entirely correct to mistrust my intentions, in all honesty, but to face every fact here: it would be stupid of me to transform you into a frog right now, and in order to get to the Goblin Queen, we have to get past those guards, which means you need to look like nobility.”

Albafica offered him a weak smile. “I don’t like feeling like people are watching and getting the wrong impression.”

Minos stepped over, setting down the ribbons he was fussing with. He slipped his hands into Albafica’s, and they stood almost eye-to-eye, Minos just a little taller than he was. “You are a human in Berthelien,” he said, and his voice was gentle, and the light in his eyes seemed truer than usual. “You can do what we cannot. You can tell us all untruths, of things that were never for a moment true, not even on a technicality. Whatever impression you wish to give is the impression others will get. You can be whatever you want here, because no law nor feat of magic will stop you. All you need to do is believe in the lie, believe in who you wish us to see in your eyes, and we will never have any reason to argue.”

He couldn’t find anything else to do but shift his weight ever so slightly forward, leaning his chin against Minos’ shoulder. A slightly heavy warmth slipped around his waist and held him close, Minos’ palm rubbing soothing circles into the area between his shoulder blades. It almost felt warm to the touch. Minos himself smelled almost like blackberries, and he leaned into the touch, unused to hugs from anyone but his father and even more from anyone trying to soothe him. He slipped his hands to Minos’ waist, holding him back, to find him lean into him as well, collar pressed to his own.

After a few moments, Minos dragged him over to a vanity set he hadn’t noticed somewhere beside the desk, and pushed him into the seat. “Hair,” he said, before Albafica could argue. “Those pigtails are about five hundred years out of fashion. And they are very much not masculine enough to match you.” He reached over and untied the faux-lace, scrunching up his nose at them.

“Do you not appreciate my hair ties?” he asked, mildly concerned. 

“Faux-lace is ridiculous. If you wish for lace, you will get real moth-silk lace, and we will find a way to make it suit you,” Minos answered imperiously. He leaned over and pulled a hairbrush from one of the shelves, beginning to brush out his hair chunk by chunk, a soft smile playing on his lips.

Honestly, he almost enjoyed the experience, with how gentle he was about it. The mirror in front of him kept phasing into different images, flickering between an actual reflection and several finished styles, as though trying to help him decide on what he wanted. He eyed them halfheartedly, unsure of if he’d see one he actually liked, and not just dislike whatever he ended up with.

Minos finished with the brush and started in on braids. Albafica dared to tilt his head up enough to look at him. His eyes were focused on the locks of blue hair, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “How much do you remember?”

“Hm? About what?” Minos looked up, eyes a little wide.

“When we woke up after Pandora threw us out of your throne room, you didn’t recognize me at all. And now you seem back to your usual infuriating personality and relying on me. What’s up with that?” Minos seemed to be braiding his hair almost entirely absentmindedly, debating how best to answer.

“I was rather jarred, I think, by the spells she used,” he admitted, slowly, as though trying to recall. “I did not recognize much of anything, and you were new, and human, and my vision was awry. Your presence has been both soothing and infuriating. A thousand years may go by, and I think I will still remember clear as crystal the terror of allowing you to force me into that damned carriage contraption.”

He grinned. “It’s called a car. After I actually get my license, if I decide I don’t hate you after all of this maybe we can go for a drive and I can show you all the human things. Cars have been around for a hundred years, probably more. You should know what they are.”

“I… do not leave the faery realms, much,” he said a little stiffly. “We withdrew. I never questioned why, and I both do and do not regret the decisions made before me. At least I am on mostly familiar territory right now.”

“She do this to you a lot?” he asked, curious despite himself. He had his wrench in the form of a rose tied into his belt loop and he was wearing the clothes of the faery king, and he was beginning to think that maybe this had always been here, unseen. Maybe his father really did know. It would explain why he was never allowed to cross the stream. Either way, if they survived this, he felt as though he’d survive a lot longer if he knew how to at least get out alive if it ever came to a second journey.

Minos laughed, again with that heartbreaker’s smile, and he thought it might not infuriate him so much, if they lived. “Not really! Not _ever_. I take the summer months and she takes the winter, and we keep to our own sides of the kingdom. We’ve had heroes pass through and occasionally beat us in combat for some boon or other, but she’s never tried this one before. Maybe her parents did with mine, but this is new.”

A possibility opened up before him, and he paused, before slowly asking, “You said you were fifteen, like me. Is she our age, too?”

“Sixteen and been a thorn in my side for all of those years. Her parents wanted to marry her off to my older brother, before he went off chasing dragons and falling for a Prince of the Skies. One of them, anyway. So the kingdom falls to me and I get to put up with her and tell her goblins to stop terrorizing my poor civilians.”

His voice turned plaintive, almost, on the last sentence, and it took Albafica everything he had not to laugh. It still didn’t quite feel real. Dragons were definitely a stretch, and it didn’t quite feel poetic enough to be a proper fairy tale. “Fair enough. Also, I feel like we should clear something up, now that you’ve figured out I’m not an idiot. I know what paperwork is. We also have paperwork, it’s called ‘insurance papers’ and my dad doesn’t even try to read them, he just calls a lawyer. Don’t threaten me with paperwork, I know what it is.”

“This is the most ridiculous conversation I’ve ever had,” Minos informed him, shaking his head as he braided was what quite possibly a fourth braid. 

“The feeling’s mutual, faery king,” he agreed. “My dad’s car is still parked in your castle’s driveway. Be glad I don’t introduce you to the concept of fast food.”

“With all that grease? I think not!”

He laughed, and Minos pulled the braids up into a half-up style with a rose-shaped pin to keep them in place, and his hair fell around his face in a frame that made him look like a young lord, like he was starring in a French period romance, and for once, looking in the mirror didn’t make him flinch. If he lived, he wasn’t entirely sure he would be able to go back to being a girl. This seemed ever-so-much better.

“Let’s go,” Minos said imperiously, and he took his hand, the other on his wrench, and away they went.

They slipped into the ball without being announced through a side entrance, Minos’ hands gloved but still clasped tightly with his own. The courtiers were all new: goblins and gremlins and kobolds and what he could only describe as trolls or particularly noble orcs. Perhaps this was Queen Pandora’s court, messing with all of Minos’ stuff and tracking dirt all over the floors. The Unseelie Court, if he remembered it all correctly.

Minos slipped their hands closer together and pulled him close to his chest. “We need to get over to her without raising suspicion. Can you dance?”

“No,” Albafica admitted, shifting closer, matching their steps as Minos slipped one hand to his waist, tangling the fingers of their other hands together. “Not well enough for _this_.”

Minos shrugged, and smiled at him in what was meant to be reassuring. “Then follow my lead, and try not to make a spectacle of yourself.” For a moment, all was silence and he focused entirely on swaying with him, matching his steps, trying to ignore the racing in his heart that had more to do with the fact that he was surrounded by evil faeries over the fact that he was dancing with a boy.

He’d never done either of those before, and if he’d been asked previously, he would have rated them both as equally lethal. Somehow, ‘dancing with a boy’ seemed the less lethal option. When that shift had happened, he wasn’t sure. A split second later, he heard the music. It was soft and lilting and dreamy, underscored with a percussion that sang of something much darker afoot. Of course they would get a soundtrack. It only seemed right for a fairy tale.

They glided down the hall, swaying and stepping to the music, Minos twirling him every now and then and allowing Albafica to twirl him back. It was no time at all before they were dancing almost in front of Pandora herself, hidden from her view by a couple of darker gentry, two girls who seemed equally terrifying and equally straight out of _Bridge to Terabithia_. He wasn’t sure when that had stopped being weird, either.

He eyed Pandora over Minos’ shoulder. She had changed her dress to a silver one, almost a shroud, embroidered with rubies and rose-petals that were almost evidently meant to look like bloodsplatters. She had a silver, almost-translucent cloak wrapped around her shoulders like a shroud, almost blindingly pale against her dark hair. And the clasp holding her shawl was a key, almost, its handle like a prism of rainbows, shaped like butterfly wings.

He had seen those wings before. Fury shot down his veins, his heart shifting from a steadfast trill to a roar of ire. He pulled Minos a little closer, hand tighter on his hip, and swept him over to right in front of her.

“Pandora! Get down here and play this game proper, you uncultured _witch_ ,” he snarled, the hand on Minos’ waist pulling him behind him in the same action. He squared his shoulders and stared her down, chin held high. She tilted her head over to look at him, almost bored.

“I see the guards failed to apprehend you properly, mortal,” she answered softly, her voice syrupy sweet. Sparks flew from her fingertips, and she set her wineglass down, shifting in Minos’ throne to face them both. “I really think you humans aren’t worth the trouble of letting you stay as you are.”

She was on her feet in a moment. The spell slapped him full across the face and he stumbled backward, feeling it tug at parts of his body below the skin, like it wanted at his blood. He snarled and bared his teeth, falling back onto one leg, crouched.

He pulled the wrench out of the belt loop, ignoring the pain of the rosethorns on its stem slicing his hand open. And he swung upwards. The spell shattered around him in a mess of sparkles and the taste of blood on his lips, though he was sure they were dry. He rose to his feet, unsteady, feeling the ground sway under him. He kept his eyes on Pandora, refusing to fall over.

She was snarling back at him, fury as much in her eyes as it was in his veins. She stepped forward, teeth bared, and he laughed.

He threw the rose to Minos, who was standing to the side. And he _laughed_ , a derisive, deranged sound escaping his lips. He sounded like a madman, and felt both exhausted but as though he’d pulled off the trick of the century. This was stealing cookies when his dad wasn’t looking, but a million times better. 

“Come now, O goblin queen, come off the dais and dance with me,” he jeered, throwing his arms wide for emphasis. “Guess what. I’m still human, and you still can’t take the iron in my blood away from me. Don’t want to touch a human? I’m sure I could come to you, but I think we both agree you don’t want me to.”

“Human or not-” she began, her voice suddenly raspy and tightly controlled. He ignored her words entirely.

“I’m a purple dinosaur,” he answered. “The sky is red. Two plus two equals three. You see? You can’t stop me. Or maybe you can. I can keep lying all day, you know, and you have no choice but to believe me. But hear the truth in my words now: you have _no_ power over me, Goblin Queen.”

Pandora let out a noise of almost incoherent rage. She didn’t even notice Minos sneak up behind her. Nor did she notice him shift the rose into its true form of a wrench, raise it above his shoulder, and swing.

It connected with the side of her head and she fell forward, her breath caught in a gasp. Albafica slid to one side, allowing her the room she needed to fall. When she’d hit the ground and settled onto it, he leaned down and snatched the butterfly-winged key, gripping it tightly.

“Hey, Minos-” he began, looking up. Minos was there, flanked on either side by orc guards who looked absolutely furious, heavy swords raised in offense. And behind him, a horse of shadows, its rider a tall goblin in full armour. Minos hadn’t seen the goblin, only the orcs, and he stepped back.

“No,” he hissed, and sprinted forward. He wasn’t fast enough. The goblin reached forward, ensnaring Minos by the back of his collar, and yanked him up onto the horse. Minos screamed. The horse reared onto its back legs, and bolted. 

Albafica sprinted up onto the dais, hand finding purchase on one side of the throne and swinging him around it, keeping his moment. He bared his teeth. The Hunt was on.

He must have been running for miles, down hallways and sliding around corners and keeping his eyes fixed on the tail end of that horse. He could _feel_ Minos’ presence, like he had found himself attuned to the taste of his magic. He kept running.

When he finally caught up to the horse, it was through a glass door that lead outside onto a pavilion. The horse was gone, and in the centre of the stone square was a bier. Atop it was Minos, frozen on his back, like he was asleep.

He ran up to him, chest heaving, ignoring how much his sides hurt. Not even in phys-ed did he ever run this much. In his hands was the wrench, in the form of the rose. His feet were strangely gray, unshining.

They were stone. The stone was inching up his boots, granite and unforgiving. His eyes went wide, his breathing suddenly shallow as the shock ran down his spine.

“Think, Alba, think,” he hissed, mostly to himself. “How do you cure a statue in the fairy tales?”

Sleeping Beauty. The Princess and the Frog. Hell, anything might’ve worked. “The Law of equivalent exchange in alchemy says you can’t just turn to stone!” he snapped, taking in a deep breath. The angrier he got, the more likely he was to be able to bully the world into listening. So far, that tactic had worked well. He took the wrench from Minos’ still fingers and shifted it back into its proper form, and gently tapped him on the mid-shin, where the granite was seeping up his legs.

It didn’t do anything. He smacked him with it slightly harder, hoping as hard as he could. Minos was still his ticket home, and a knot in his stomach seemed to insist he was something more.

“Fine,” he muttered, trying to ignore the exhaustion seeping up his limbs. “Make up your mind, Berthelien,” he called, looking up to the sky. “Am I the princess who kisses the frog prince, or the prince who kisses the other prince awake? He’s a butterfly boy. You don’t get to hold him chained to the ground.”

The trio of moons shimmered ever so slightly at him. He took a deep breath, and looked down at the sleeping king.

He’d honestly never really focused on his appearance until now. Mostly because he was infuriating, and there had been other concerns on his mind. But now… His hair was a pale silver and his skin a somewhat light olive, like it didn’t know what it was going to be quite yet. His hair was styled loosely, a thin circlet on his head and short spikes above it, with long locks below, and bangs that could easily conceal his eyes. He wasn’t yet a man. Might never be, if Albafica didn’t figure out how to break the spell.

For a moment, he didn’t have the faintest clue. He looked up again at the moons, and for a moment, he could hear the barest trace of a whisper.

“Once upon a time,” he began, like every fairy tale did, and there was a power in each syllable, surging through his veins, restoring his energy, offering strength to his words. “Once upon a time, there was a faery king, and he fell through the window of a mortal knight. This is my fairy tale, and I am the one who gets to choose how it ends.”

He leaned down, settling his hands on either side of his shoulder, thought of Minos’ heartbreaker laugh, and kissed his sleeping form.

Nothing changed, and then the magic through his veins found itself a companion, Minos’ own powers flaring to embrace him. And he blinked awake.


	5. five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time to defeat Pandora, the Goblin Queen. Albafica may have mixed up his movies, though, and he doesn’t feel like pretending she’s David Bowie. Not enough spandex, and yet, that’s already more than enough spandex for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Druj Nasu Veronica gets to use they/them, because frankly their gender is “queer” and that’s all you need. Alba does get a transformation potion though, headsup is that bothers anyone.  
> Technically the next two chapters are both epilogue, but the next one is actually just setup for the sequel, which I will write when I actually know the plot and have written all my planned oneshots. So either in two weeks or two centuries. If you have ideas of what you want to see I’ll take ‘em, you know the deal.

Minos’ hand rose and slipped his fingers into his hair, pulling him in closer with a quiet noise of surprise. He attempted to move back, to check that he was in fact alive, and found that Minos had other ideas, namely pulling him closer. He went, closing his eyes, shifting until he was more sitting on the bier, leaned over Minos’ torso as they kissed. His lips were soft, warm and wet and he slipped his free hand to rest on Albafica’s ribs, his grip tight and pulling him closer to lean onto him. Albafica leaned forward, just enough to pull his hands back onto Minos’ hips and pull him back until they were sitting up, still kissing.

He didn’t break the kiss when his hands found Minos’ collar and started to undo the buttons, the key still pressed firm in one hand. Minos’ hands left his ribs and neck and started to help him undo his shirt, shrugging off his jacket and his vest with equal ease. Albafica undid the buttons on his blouse until it only hung off of his shoulders, and with the key now vibrating a soft melody of magic in his hand, he pulled Minos’ shirt off of his shoulders, leaving him shirtless and pale in the moonlight.

He pulled away from the kiss, his lips almost dripping with saliva and Minos’ faint taste still on them, and looked at him with the surprise and faint incredulousity of someone who had never actually kissed anyone before. Minos looked back, mouth slightly open and a deep blue blush on his face, and gave him a smile with one cheek. He thought he might actually hit Pandora again with a wrench, if only he’d smile like that again. He held up the key.

“Pretty sure this has your wings in it,” he said, softly, and held it out to him. Minos’ eyes, that beautiful moonlight-struck color of blackberry flowers, lit up, and he took the key. He pressed it to his lips. A bright white light suddenly enveloped them both, and Albafica shut his eyes, turning his head to the side. When the light faded, a few moments later, on either side of Minos’ back was his wings like that of a butterfly, combining stained glass with gauze and setting them both aflame with a firm, thick sheet of glitter.

He raised him, glancing behind him, his smile brighter than any dawn. Judging by the slowly lightening horizon, dawn wasn’t far away. Minos turned to him, smiling still, his hands slipping into Albafica’s. His smile very suddenly faded, replaced with worry.

“What’s behind me that I should worry about?” he asked, sighing, fairly certain it was something dangerous.

“You’re both arrested from assault upon the Queen,” said a grumpy, unfamiliar voice. Albafica didn’t even bother to turn around.

“You’re looking at your King right now,” he answered irritably. “Can she give him back his kingdom, or do I need to hit her with a wrench again? Because I’ll hit her with a wrench again. I don’t care. I want to go home and sleep and maybe get some food. Go harass someone else, like Pandora.”

He felt the tip of a blade press against the back of his neck. Minos, in front of him, was frantically doing up the buttons of his shirt, having pulled it back over his shoulders and wings. He wasn’t exactly magazine-muscular, but he had a very pretty chest. Albafica looked him in the eye, trying his best not to stare.

The moment Minos was done, he felt a hand grip his bicep, and drag them off the bier. They followed the guards, Minos’ wings lowered but not trailing on the floor, and he really did feel like they might lose.

The hall was full of courtiers from both kingdoms, now, and the floor was awash with scarlet blood and bits of off-white bone. The air was filled with harp music, and there was Pandora herself, still on Minos’ throne, but this time playing a harp bigger than she was. Albafica looked at her, and then at the courtiers, and realized that it was her music that was keeping them dancing. If she stopped, they would, and he knew enough of faeries to know she’d be able to play that for longer than the time they had.

He walked forward, slowing his step until the guard had to drag him, and looked over at Minos. “Can you play a harp?” he asked.

“Yes,” he answered, looking concerned. “Fairly well. Why do you ask? I can’t wrestle it away from her.”

“Right. Can you play to a tune you’re hearing by ear that you’ve never heard before?” An idea was occurring to him, painfully human and absolutely the best idea he’d ever had, and he wasn’t going to consider its effects, only if it could be done. If this was going to be his fairy tale, he wanted to end it as he’d started it: screaming, hitting goblins with iron, and blasting human music that he was sure the gentry would absolutely disintegrate upon hearing.

“I could try, but little prince, I don’t think-” Minos stopped short. The closer they got to Pandora, the more of a struggle it was to keep that music away from his ears. Apparently, it had a greater effect on faeries. He gripped his wrench tight, realizing from a sharp pain that not only had the wounds from the thorns not scabbed over, he was getting rust and oil in them.

His sight cleared a little. The human pollution was keeping his head clear. He smiled, and looked up at Pandora, who was now eyeing him with a fury he hadn’t seen in her face or her magic before. There wasn’t any time for banter. He had one shot, and it had to be now. He wasn’t going to get to her in time, and Minos wasn’t going to be able to help him. One shot, if he wanted to live to see the dawn.

He shook free of the guard and shoved his hand into his pocket, coming out with his MP3. Its speaker was actually pretty loud, all things considered. He selected the song he wanted, thinking of a fairy tale that should never have made it to the big screen and haunted his dreams, looked the Goblin Queen in the eye, and pressed ‘play’.

The music began to blare from the speakers, a little crackled with the static of the volume. The guitar riff was incredibly comforting, and against the echo of the hall, resounded from every corner. He felt magic rise in his veins. _Make it louder_ , he thought, willing the magic to listen like it did for the gentry.

Pandora kept playing, but the percussion thrummed against the floor. He took a deep breath, knowing he had to be louder if he was going to win. And then he sang.

“Ah-ah-ah, ahhh. Ah-ah-ah, _ahhh_.” He was a terrible singer. In this case, he was pretty sure that was an asset to him.

“We come from the land of the ice and snow, from the midnight sun where the hot springs flo-ow!” He knew the lyrics to Immigrant Song better than he wanted to admit. There was something comforting about it, the memory of sitting shotgun in his dad’s Jeep, blasting this very song until his ears rang with agony.

Pandora screamed, clapping her hands to her ears. Behind him, he felt the flare of Minos’ magic. Minos darted forward, wings wide to help him move, and he tackled Pandora, slamming his shoulder into her collar. They tumbled off the throne and disappeared behind the dais, the harp abandoned. Albafica ran to it, scooping it up with his MP3 still in hand. He pulled it up into where he’d usually put the strings of an air guitar, and attempted to strum it to the beat. It sounded horrific. He had never felt so satisfied.

“The hammer of the gods- will drive our ships to new land,” he drawled, strumming the harp like it was a guitar. “To fight the horde- and sing and cry. Valhalla, I am coming.”

There was a hand on his shoulder, and it belonged to one of Minos’ courtiers, dressed in pale violet and gold, with bloody feet and a look of deep exhaustion on their face. “ _Please_ stop,” they said, softly. “We’re free. You do not need to play that anymore.”

Laughter bubbled out of him before he could stop it, the snickering of the teenager he was actually getting away with that. He turned off the song, finding the faces of the courtiers around him to be ones of sheer relief that he’d stopped playing Led Zeppelin. Sometimes Shrek _did_ have it right, he supposed.

Minos fluttered over, one leg bent and Pandora over his shoulder, kicking and screaming and not doing very much to stop him. Albafica was still laughing. Minos looked at him.

“Had I not been already subjected to your strange tastes, little prince, I think I would have fainted,” he said warily, but his face expressed deep amusement. He waited for him to land, and when he did, put the harp down and walked over to him. Minos shifted Pandora down until she was in a headlock, incapable of escaping.

He looked down at her, and on an impulse, pulled his headset out of his pocket and plugged in his MP3. With the evillest smile he could muster up, he put the headset in her ears, and hit play. After approximately ten seconds, she all but exploded into a flurry of red pixie-dust.

Minos looked at him, and burst into laughter. “That’ll take care of her for a few years,” he managed between fits of laughter. “She’ll re- reform eventually, but not so soon after that!”

Albafica grinned. A sunbeam lit up his face and he started blinking, squinting in the sudden light. He glanced to the side, and indeed, through the stained-glass window was in fact the light of dawn.

“Just in time, too,” he murmured, recalling Minos’ first request for help. He looked up, smiling, and offered his hands. Minos stepped forward, like he was going to hold them, and quite suddenly jumped onto him, arms tight around his neck, burying his face in his shoulder. He smiled softly, slipping his arms around the small of his back, and held him close. He still smelled like lavender and the faint taste of what he realized now to be the scent of magic. 

“I owe you _everything_ ,” Minos breathed into the soft part of his neck. “Whatever you need, whatever is within my power to give. I owe you the world and then some.”

Albafica could only pull him closer, tightening his grip, ensuring that he avoided squeezing his wings too tight. They swayed together for a moment, leaning on each other, until finally he gave up and pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck, feeling him give a slight shudder in his embrace.

After a moment, Minos pulled back, his arms slipping to Albafica’s sides. “We should probably settle the debt of you letting me into your home and giving me food, though, before anything else. Hospitality requires _so very much_ paperwork, and if you understand it, I’m going to have to make you help me do it.”

He started to laugh again. “You owe me the world, and what I need is to not help you do paperwork. You’re on your own there, faery boy. Though…” He fingered the hem of Minos’ collar, debating. “I did kiss you, and give you my heart, and reawaken you from becoming a statue, just like all the fairy tales said I should. Is that going to matter very much? I should think that my heart’s worth more than my name.”

Minos smiled, much to his surprise. “It is, in its way,” he agreed. “But you took mine in return, so until we part ways as unlikely friends, I think the trade is fair. Nor do I think you would ever be able to truly give my heart up. Not after all of this.” He smiled that heartbreaker’s smile, all soft and sheepish and with a faint blue blush upon his cheeks. Albafica rolled his eyes, leaned forward, and kissed him.

The first thing Albafica asked him for was a body better suited to what he felt was true. He had walked into the tale a boy, and after some consideration, decided he wanted to leave it as one, too. Minos had considered this an incredibly reasonable request, and brought him to the court alchemist. 

The court alchemist was a faery named Veronica, all tatterdemalion wings and almost Catholic-imagined robes and of course, talking nonsense as he figured alchemists would all have to be like. Some things were only tropes, some of them were real, and at this point, he’d stopped being surprised. 

“So you need a potion to mold your body to your image, of course, as tricky as that may be,” called the soft voice of the alchemist, who had disappeared behind what seemed to be a rack of potion ingredients. The room was half apothecary and half chemist’s lab, and anything that may have been for any other purpose seemed shoved into a corner, where it wouldn’t be in their way.

“That’s what we’re looking for,” he answered. Minos was beside him, his back leaned up against the wall and chin held high, looking as imperious and regal as ever. He wondered, vaguely, if Minos did it because that was how he was supposed to act, or if he actually thought that was how best to react to anything. Dragging him out to the human world for adventures was going to be quite interesting indeed.

“I will require a few strands of hair and the firm illusion of what you intend to be, and that should be enough.” He glanced at Minos, eyebrow raised in questioning. Rule number two of being with the gentry: if you aren’t leaving your name with them, don’t leave body parts with them either.

Minos nodded curtly. “It will go into the potion, which you will likely need to drink. If he actually wants some for his own purposes, he will get them from someone else.”

Albafica grinned. “Is it considered a jerk move if I ‘accidentally’ let him have the hair of classmates I don’t like? Like, are they likely to die?”

Minos paused, looked at him, and rolled his eyes with a shake of his head. “They may have all sorts of things happen, and if you wish such things on them, I suppose we could teach you how to be a proper Witch. I don’t think I would recommend it, though. You do seem rather the type for knight errantry, with your fondness for melee weapons.”

“You’re just saying that because I killed the Goblin Queen with a wrench and Led Zeppelin,” he retorted, still grinning.

Veronica appeared from behind the counter, a neon green potion in one hand and a pair of shears in the other. “A few strands of hair, if you please, Master Knight,” they said courteously, their wings fluttering with what he guessed was anticipation. He ran his hand through his hair, working out the knots until his hand came free with a few loose strands that had been tangled up in the rest of his hair, and held them out.

Veronica took them, added them to their potion - which promptly turned the same bright shade of blue - and then held it out with a confident smile. He took it, feeling the soft thrum of magic between his fingers. He glanced over at Minos, gave a mock-toast in his direction with a, “To the king, long may he reign,” and downed it.

The next thing he felt was a race of magic from the top of his head all the way down to his toes, and he was falling backwards, stumbling, and Minos’ arms were around him, holding him steady until he felt sure of his footing and the steadily-growing-irrelevant idea of gravity. He stood up again, slowly, acutely aware that his body felt wildly different but not at all foreign.

When he felt sure of the floor beneath him and Minos’ hands on his ribs, he slowly opened his eyes, steadying himself as best he could. Veronica was now in front of him, a mirror under their arm. They held it up so he could see, looking more than confident in their ability to do as he’d asked.

His silhouette had changed into something stockier and he’d lost some of the bubbliness of his cheeks, but he could recognize himself quite easily indeed. It didn’t look foreign at all, and there was a light of confidence in his eyes that he was sure he’d never had before. Whether that was beginning to feel comfortable with what he saw in the mirror or simply the surety that came with beating up the Goblin Queen with a wrench. Either way, he wasn’t sure if he liked it quite yet, but he certainly didn’t dislike it.

“Is making a toast to the king something humans do, or are you just strange?” Minos asked innocently. He was downplaying his reaction to the changes, allowing Albafica to make the first move, and he appreciated it more than he knew how to say.

“My dad does it, so I do it,” he answered, before allowing himself to step out of Minos’ grasp and turn a slow twirl. His body had definitely adjusted its proportions a little, and it would take him a bit to get used to, but he _could_ get used to it, and that was the important part. He doubted he’d regret this one.

“Is my work satisfactory? It would take a bit to make any more adjustments, but they could be done,” Veronica said, intervening with a trace of deference in his tone. He knew better than to argue with the king, but thankfully, Albafica had no such reservations and now that he’d properly earned it, was going to talk to them all pretty much the same way. They could claim insult, but he had a wrench, so he would win every time.

“I think it’s perfect.” he answered, and Veronica beamed with the praise. His stomach, on the other hand, made a noise of complaint.

“Oh, I should mention - most human men your age do get hungry incredibly quickly, so if you were not aware of that change, there is your warning.” Veronica looked a little sheepish, but they gave a half-bow of quick respect, and vanished deeper into the workshop.

Minos slipped his hand into Albafica’s, his smile radiant. “Is there paperwork involved with breakfast?” Albafica asked, almost teasingly. Minos paused, and then started to laugh.

“You are a treasured guest in my halls, alchemy always makes us hungry, and I already caught two courtiers making a bet on whether or not they should be hearing wedding bells. No, dear knight, there’s no paperwork involved in throwing a celebratory feast in your honour.”

“Please don’t tell me I have to be dressed formally for it,” he said, and stepped forward where he could lean into him, chin resting on his shoulder. Minos was only taller because his shoes were heeled, and that was a little new, but if he hit a growth spurt first and was taller than the faery king, well, he wasn’t going to argue with his body on that one.

Minos’ arms slipped around him again, and together they left for the quiet halls of Minos’ castle, heading towards where breakfast might be found. “No, a celebratory feast like this requires that you show up at least clothed but otherwise in whatever you were wearing. This is not a fancy affair, simply where we see who survived, and the costs, and the simple laughter of everyone looking terrible simultaneously.”

“Oh, good, because any dressing up means longer it is before we get food,” he answered, and Minos started to laugh in his agreement, and finally, the world might be all right.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to return home, and resolve what will be resolved. Perhaps indeed, not everything was as it seemed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER IS COMPLETELY OPTIONAL. If you’re only here for the MiAlba and not my larger set of Mirrorverse works, then congrats, you probably won’t actually know what’s going on here, and you can totally skip this. If, however, you have read my Mirrorverse stuff, you’re in good hands because Lugonis is out here being Lugonis, as per normal.  
> Work is super quiet so I just kept writing. Expect the epilogue in a couple of hours, depends on if I can spit out another six pages in two hours. That one, however, is entirely MiAlba so I recommend not skipping it. :D

By the time he’d found the road that would lead him out of Berthelien, Minos had already figured out enough of how to be comfortable in the car to put his head on Albafica’s lap and pass out. He had both hands firmly on the wheel, and as much as he did want to just put a hand in Minos’ hair as he drove, he wasn’t quite that confident in his ability to drive one-handed yet. Perhaps before making his body go through one hell of a transformation, but not at the moment until he got used to it.

The radio was on some slow folk-rock, Faun or Edguy or something reasonable for the both of them. He’d assault the gentry again with the techno-pop when they next deserved it, and Minos had been pretty exhausted by the time they’d finished enough of the night’s work that Berthelien could spare them long enough to take Albafica home. He had insisted on Minos coming with him, because the point remained is that there was just no way to explain this one to his dad without Minos there, and so he had to come with.

He had actually convinced him to lose the crown, for reasons of ‘your original crown is still under the floorboards of the stairs’. The drive would take him at least an hour and a half, probably more because of traffic. Thankfully, Minos had known the closest way over that they could take the Jeep, which made things a whole lot easier. He was still running almost with no energy, owing more to exhaustion than to the food. 

At least, if anything else, the drive was peaceful and the other drivers on the road didn’t seem to be too interested in cutting him off or disregarding signal lights. Honestly, it had been a hell of a night, and he was just glad it would be over soon.

He thought about how it had all started, with investigating kobold footprints and Minos hanging out of his window. His father was absolutely going to panic when he noticed that he wasn’t home and the car was gone. Honestly, he’d be more likely to think Albafica had stolen the car to go to Shion’s party.

Ah, yes. The party. He started to laugh, shaking his head. He’d honestly thought - was it really less than twenty-four hours ago? - that he’d rather be at Shion’s party than out in the countryside with his dad. Screw that, he’d found the faery kingdom, and if his father wasn’t that angry with him, he was pretty sure he was going to spend the summer in Berthelien harassing Minos and learning about the gentry.

Minos made a noise in his sleep, and he spared the road a few moments to glance down at his sleeping face, wings curled around him like a blanket. In the early morning light, he was radiant and sparkling, and he was pretty sure his father was going to panic.

He pulled into the driveway of the old cottage, noting the smoke rising out of the chimney. His father had the fire going, which meant he was probably awake and seriously worried. He parked the car, turning off the ignition and gently shaking Minos’ shoulder.

“Up, Minos,” he said softly. Minos sat up slowly, pushing off of the seat and blinking awake. Albafica leaned over and undid his seatbelt, knowing full well Minos wasn’t yet in the habit of doing that automatically. Minos smiled, catching his hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“Are we here, then, my prince?” he asked, and Albafica nodded. They climbed out of the car and Minos stepped around its front so he might put his hand in Albafica’s elbow, shying away from the grill with a twitch of his wings. Iron still, in all likelihood.

He took a deep breath, noting Minos’ magic in the air beside him. “All right, let’s go tell Dad all about our adventures tonight, and if he’s upset that you stole his sweatshirt, you don’t get to blame me for it.”

Minos laughed, and he opened the door, and stepped inside.

For a moment, the cottage seemed deserted, and then Minos blurted, “Sir _Lugonis_?!” with a tone of complete surprise and incredulousness. Albafica turned, and there his father was, reclined in his chair by the fireplace, dressed in clothes that seemed fitting of Minos’ courtiers but he’d never seen his father in before, looking entirely unconcerned.

He also had a sword sheathed at his belt, and a distinct taste of magic in the air. It wasn’t Minos’ magic, but it was the same stuff when he really thought about it. Albafica stared at him in complete disbelief, and when he found his voice, what he said was, “You know my dad?”

“Uh, yes,” Minos said, whirling around to look at him, wings raised. He gestured at his dad. “Sires Lugonis and Luco saved our kingdom and three others some twenty years ago, and my father still owes them more than anyone cares to really think about. If either of them show up, they get as much hospitality as they could ever ask for.”

Minos paused, and then glanced between the two of them. Lugonis looked at him impassively, his full expression hidden behind the teacup in his hand, evidently waiting for them both to be done freaking out. “Honestly, I should have known you for his child the moment we met. No other person of mortal blood can cause that much trouble and save us all in the same breath.”

Albafica looked at him, unsure how to handle literally any of it. Finally, he settled his gaze on his father. “I ran over a few goblins with the car on my way to his place, I hope you don’t mind,” came out of his mouth, and he hadn’t known what he was going to say until he said it. “Also, I exploded the Goblin Queen Shrek-style with Led Zeppelin.”

Lugonis set down his teacup, expression carefully neutral. Then he put his head in one hand and started to laugh. It started as a snicker and ended in a full, roaring belly-laugh of sheer unsurprise. When he was able to breathe between bouts of laugher, he stood up, still shaking his head. The white bangles tied into his hair - if those were bone, he think he’d be deeply alarmed - rattled with the movement.

“That’s pretty funny,” he agreed. He scanned Albafica, giving him the parental once-over, and then raised an eyebrow. For a moment, he suddenly wasn’t sure, and hadn’t even considered his reaction to this. “You know, when I was a kid, I knew a boy who used to be a girl, too. That was some twenty years ago, though... I suppose he’s a man now.”

Lugonis tilted his head as he swept past them, a knowing glint in his eye, and then he did the impossible, and the best thing of all: he winked. “Surgery’s never the best option, if you’ve got the gentry involved,” he continued, gesturing them to follow him into the kitchen. “Easiest to ask an alchemist. Smart thinking on that one, Alba. Next time, though, don’t take my Jeep into Berthelien. It’s not meant for a jump through reality. You know how to ride horseback, you could always have borrowed mine or Luco’s, he wouldn’t argue with you either on that.”

“I could have,” he answered, beginning to smile. Minos leaned into him slightly, a familiar expression of amusement playing on his lips as they headed into the dining room. “But if I did, they would’ve been able to stab me and take out the horse. An armoured Jeep that’s half iron and goes four times as fast as anything they’ve got is way better. Besides, I was blasting techno and had it pinned at one-fifty, so you can’t be that mad.”

Lugonis pulled a plate of evidently fresh scones from off the counter, a jar of jam under his arm. “I can absolutely admonish you for doing twice the speed limit, young man,” he scolded. Albafica’s heart jumped and he blinked, before grinning right back. It looked like he had nothing to be worried about after all. “As for you, little prince.”

Minos squared his shoulders, straightening. “King, actually,” he clarified. “Father stepped down after the last incident with the pegasus flock. He said it was time for his retirement.”

Lugonis raised an eyebrow, pausing. “Did something happen to Rhadamanthys while I wasn’t looking? I would have expected a call, if that were the case.”

Minos looked briefly uneasy. Albafica glanced between them - Minos had mentioned his older brother running off to go chase dragons, and the gentry couldn’t lie, but… “He went off to Tirn Aill chasing the lightning, so the kingdom falls to me. There wasn’t… all that much unrest. Father felt it best to allow you your space.” He settled down somewhat awkwardly into a chair, wings held at rest against his back. Albafica followed him and Lugonis set down the scones, gesturing to them in the unspoken but universal fatherly ‘help yourselves’.

“Dad, did something like, happen?” Albafica interjected. “In Berthelien? Is there something I should really know about it?”

Lugonis ran a hand through the parts of his hair that weren’t pulled up in braids or bangles, sighing. “King Asterius - Minos’ father - and I are not currently on the best of terms. I made it clear he was not to disturb my life until I reentered the gentry lands on my own terms. Honestly, I didn’t think he’d actually listen. I knew you’d find your way into Berthelien, yes, if that was your next question. That’s part of the reason why I dragged you all the way out here, even though you had a party you wanted to go to. Summer Ride and the whole nine yards, it was more than about time.”

Albafica started to laugh. “Screw the party, I got to terrorize the Goblin Queen by hitting her over and over with a wrench. This was way more fun.”

Minos, on the other hand, looked less amused. He placed a hand on Albafica’s shoulder, looking worried. “Sire, I should extend my sincerest-”

“Don’t even start.” Lugonis raised a hand, cutting him off. “Asterius never knew about this cottage, I doubt he told you about what I said to him, and you can’t be blamed for not knowing I didn’t want to be bothered when I was already under the impression that he wasn’t going to listen to me. Frankly, I’m just glad you brought Albafica home.”

“I could’ve gotten out on my own if I needed to,” he answered, and he leaned back to press his shoulder into Minos’ chest. The contact was reassuring, and he was beginning to realize that his dad knew a lot more than he had ever let on. “But I’m going to ask, even though you tend to avoid this one. Did Mom know about the whole faery thing?”

Lugonis looked him in the eye, sea-green to navy-blue. “Your mother was the Sea Monarch of Mag Mell, and they are precisely why I’m not on speaking terms with Asterius, so yes, you could certainly say that.”

“You know, when I called him a prince in lieu of a name, I didn’t think I’d be right,” Minos muttered, eyeing the scones. He looked up, suddenly exhausted. “For the records and the paperwork, and for the chance to spare my father’s yelling when he inevitably finds out about the latest adventure, are you ready to return to our lands, Sire?”

Lugonis paused, looking deep in thought, the way he usually did when trying to think through what a salesman was saying and what he meant. “That depends on Albafica,” he said, finally. “If-”

“Right, let’s get our stuff packed,” Albafica cut in, clapping his hands. Lugonis looked at him blankly. “I already planned on heckling you into spending as much of the summer as possible out here so I could learn more about Berthelien, and Minos said something about knight errantry, which I’m going to assume you know about and honestly I get the feeling that’s what you did anyway. I’m ready if you are, and also, I want to know how you saved four kingdoms if you _didn’t_ have a Jeep, a wrench, and Led Zeppelin.”

“Better yet, I had a near-identical twin brother, the ability to cast minor illusions, and the ability to lie to everyone, because they all thought we were telling the truth when we said who was who,” he answered, without missing a beat. “And we had your mother, who could argue with the sea itself.”

Minos started abruptly laughing, and his laughter was a joy to hear, in more ways than one. If he was comfortable too now, then all was well. “I watched milord Alba argue with reality thrice, and all times it actually worked. He bullied even the universe into listening to him. And now I know where he gets it from!”

“Okay, you two really need to tell me what exactly you’ve been up to, because this seems like one hell of a story. Spill, and then I promise I’ll answer any questions you have, and we’ll see about returning to Berthelien for the Ride and see where we get from there.”

Minos glanced at Albafica, and he glanced back, noting his innocent expression. “I believe this starts with you,” Minos said, and pulled him a little closer.

He took a breath, smiling to himself. “Well, let’s start it the way things should be started: Once upon a time, when you decided you didn’t want me at Shion’s party after all…”


	7. seven (epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an eventful summer, Albafica returns to school. A not-so-mysterious new student arrives, too.

Albafica settled into one of the middle desks of the classroom, hair tucked behind one ear and a rose-that-was-just-a-wrench-in-disguise holding it in place. Most of his friends were on the other side of the classroom - at least the ones that had already arrived. It was early September yet, not yet time for the Ride that would dictate Minos handing his kingdom over to Pandora for the season, but the leaves outside were thinking about maybe changing colours in the next month. He didn’t really feel like sitting with them, if they needed his attention they’d let him know.

Besides, they’d just ask him to play ball outside once class was over, and he was still pretty sore from that last week of attempting to tame a pegasus. He was sporting a few new scars, too, including one that ran about two inches down the side of his face that he could blame on a pair of wandering orcs that seemed very interested in eating his father. He hadn’t been very interested in allowing them to eat him, however, so he came back to Minos’ castle sporting some minor wounds and a new story to tell over dinner.

He fingered his necklace absently, dog tags and his mother’s hag stone over a silver chain. Class would start soon, and he’d do all he could to pay attention. His leg nervously bounced, never still, and he found himself lost in thought as his classmates slowly poured in and picked seats. The one to his right beside the window remained empty, and Shion slid into the one on his left, attentions focused on his notebook and his concerning amount of post-it notes.

The teacher stepped in, a spry old woman in what was probably her late sixties. She had a knowing glint in her eye, and he registered, if only vaguely, pixie-glitter around her shoulders. She clapped her hands, gaining everyone’s attention. “Welcome back, all, for another good year! Everyone glad to be back?”

She was met with a round of ‘no’s from her students, and shook her head. “Well, then. Just before we get started, I do have a new student to introduce to everyone.”

He lifted his attentions out of the clouds, eyeing her. It wasn’t often they had new students, and their particular graduating class hadn’t had one in a few years. Their teacher gestured to the door, and the new student stepped across the threshold. He had long, silver hair pulled up in an elaborate bun, his school uniform perfect to every standard the school had, and Albafica could see the glitter of pixie-dust all around him. He looked entirely innocent, like he was entirely human, and that he was a totally normal student who had moved into town.

Albafica gave Minos a lopsided smile, wondering what kind of illusions he was wearing to hide his wings. The teacher nodded at him encouragingly. “Hello,” Minos said softly, gently raising one hand in a wave. “You can call me Minos. I am awfully new here, and I’m pleased to be here, and meet all of you.”

Faeries couldn’t lie, and those were certainly true. Albafica gestured to the empty spot to his right. “You can sit here, and I can help you with the coursework if you get lost,” he answered innocently, trying to avoid allowing a knowing smirk from crossing his face. Minos dipped his head in the slightest idea of a bow, and went to take the seat.

The moment he did, he slipped a note onto Albafica’s lap. As discreetly as he could, he took it and opened it up. ‘ _Rhadamanthys told me I should, and called me a coward for liking dragons and being scared of your metal carriage. Hope you don’t mind, my prince._ ’

He scribbled ‘ _I will destroy you on the basketball court_ ’ on the note, and slipped it back. Shion eyed them, now finished with his post-it notes.

“You know the new kid, Albafica?” he asked, looking interested, blond hair a mess around his face as per usual. He appeared to have figured out how to grow patchy scruff, which Albafica hadn’t seen on him last spring.

Minos answered before he did, smiling that heartbreaker’s smile. “We’ve met, but we have never been classmates before,” he said, innocently enough. Albafica eyed Shion, waiting to see how he’d react. Minos reached over and slipped his hand through his, entangling their fingers. By fae standards, it was a neutral gesture, meant only to convey information without speaking aloud. By human standards, it was almost rude to imply Shion was getting between them. He blinked, clearly taken aback.

“I… see,” he said. “Cool. Okay. That explains why Alba’s been avoiding everyone all summer. Truce, all right?” He gave an awkward thumbs-up. The teacher started speaking, diverting their attentions to her. Albafica rolled his eyes, and set about focusing on class.

A few hours later found them both out on the grounds, Minos’ hand tucked into Albafica’s elbow as they headed towards the small wood on campus. They had managed to dodge questions and Albafica’s friends by simply slipping into the shadows and casting a minor illusion, causing them to vanish from human sight. They were visible now, though, as neither needed to hide where they were once they were outside.

“I believe I can handle what this faculty seems to offer,” Minos said, by way of actual conversation. They weren’t able to actually talk without a code out in the human worlds, but they could manage well enough.

Albafica smiled. “You haven’t seen our math coursework yet, you’re really in for it. Hope you know algebra, because they’ll have you doing that, too. You sure they can spare you this long?”

He glanced up at Minos, who looked perfect in every way, even in their terrible school uniforms. His hairclip was even carved from a seashell, which seemed only fitting considering how hectic of a summer it had been together.

Minos shrugged. “They can. If they need to pull us out early, they have methods to contact me, and worst case, they call your father and he gets the honour of driving that contraption at a speed far too fast to be acceptable. I’m not that worried, honestly.” He smiled, and Albafica returned it, leaning over to kiss his cheek. 

It had been an eventful summer, indeed. They walked into the wood, Albafica guiding them until they happened upon one of the most coveted spots on the grounds, reserved only for seniors and the most daring juniors. A large oak tree stood before them, foreboding and welcoming all at once. Albafica let go of Minos, reaching up for one of the lower branches and hoisting himself up into it. Minos smiled before following him up into the tree, faster up the branches than he was. Albafica settled about twenty feet up, onto the most secure spot in the tree, and held out his arms.

Minos went straight for him, settling himself on his lap, hands already on his cheeks and leaning in to kiss him soundly. Albafica couldn’t suppress a smile, and kissed him right back, ignoring the amount of pixie dust that was now dusting all of his clothes. 

“It won’t be too hard to get back to Berthelien, will it?” he asked between kisses, a hand on Minos’ hip and massaging his skin with his thumb. “I’d hate for there to be an emergency and we have to drive two and a half hours just to get back.”

Minos smiled, brushing silver hair out of his eyes before he answered. “There’s an entrance in a tree not far from here, in the park. It opens out on the castle grounds. We’re fine, and the sprites will come get us if there’s an issue. You’d be surprised what sway we can actually have when we need to mesh with the mortal world.”

He returned the smile and kissed him again. He was the sort of boy that most people his age would be falling over for in an instant. He’d had to earn it for Albafica, but so long as they didn’t fall out of the tree, he was happy to swoon a little over him. Not everyone got to kiss the faery king like he did. Minos ran a hand over the scar on the side of his face, and kissed him softly. 

The world could be a lot of things, and he could be called to save the faery realm a few more times. But the thought, for just a moment before Minos distracted him with kisses again, that he might want nothing else but this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading all of this, which WOW I did not expect would be damn near 30k!! :D The sequel, which I’m calling _Blackmore’s Night_ , will come out whenever I get a plot. Yes, after the band, deal with it. It’ll be more Mirrorverse-AU, in that Icthyes gets to be there and Lugonis gets to Lugonis all over the place probably.  
> As always, thanks for reading, and if you like my stuff, do go check out my other works, because I write a lot! 💚💚💚


End file.
